


Lionheart

by indirectkissesiniceland



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Forbidden Love, M/M, Princess Kenny - Freeform, South Park: The Stick of Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7148342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indirectkissesiniceland/pseuds/indirectkissesiniceland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war between Humans and Elves is over, but not without its bloodshed. Boyhood lost too soon, the Elven prince assumes the throne in the wake of his departed parents; the Wizard, former royal advisor to the Humans' kingdom, rules in the stead of the young heir. But the Princess is coming of age, and the Wizard's rule is coming to an end. In theory, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Spring had finally come.

Kenny knew that when the snow started melting and leaves and flowers began to bud, her birthday was right around the corner, and this birthday was a big one. Eighteen. Coming of age. Becoming Queen.

Even though it let in cold air, Kenny opened her window and crossed her arms on the brick sill, resting her chin on her overlapping wrists and looking out onto the palace grounds. From up here, it was like looking down into a playset, the guards Kenny could see like miniature dolls weaving from the stables to the armory and their posts around the palace itself. A wall of white bricks rose up around the perimeter, a barrier to keep out threats and any more than a strip of sky just above its heavenly reach. Kenny had never once stepped outside the palace walls. In fact, she barely even left her private quarters in the tower, except for meals with the Wizard in the royal hall. 

But all of that was about to change.

The Wizard wanted to keep her safe, out of the eye of dangerous threats. Kenny understood his fear. When she was only a baby, Humans and Elves were still in the thick of war; enemies had infiltrated the palace walls and slayed the Queen. Were it not for the Wizard's powerful magic to rally the guards, the war may have ended in devastating bloodshed then and there. They fought back, pushed enemy forces all the way back to the border of Elven lands, but it wasn't enough to save the King from his broken heart. With the heir to the throne merely an infant, the royal vizier rose up as ruler of the Human kingdom. The Wizard.

But the world was different now. The war that had raged twenty long years had ended when Kenny was still a child. The Wizard had ruled in peaceful times while she attended lessons and prepared herself to be a proper ruler. At eighteen, she would lead, and the Wizard would again resume his position as her counsel.

It was frightening, to have never seen her own kingdom mere days before she was to rule it, but exciting to think that there was only a short period of waiting left before she could see the world with the Wizard's blessing. He was older now; it must have been a relief in some way to turn over control to her. She'd spent a lifetime memorizing his rules.

Beware beauty, be it faces or words. Beauty is the favored mask of deceit.

Never display weakness. Never doubt yourself. Even a single crack in a dam could be the difference between dry and flood.

No creature on Earth is more evil than the Elf. Treacherous, selfish, loathsome creatures who will take any and every opportunity to destroy Humans. In times of war or peace, never let your guard down.

As Kenny's eyes drifted lazily over the palace grounds, her ears pricked up at the sound of rumbling. The gate. Kenny flew from the window she was looking out and went to the bow window on the other side of her bed, facing the front of the palace. Sure enough, dozens of guards stood at attention on either side of the cobblestone road leading up the palace doors while those on gate duty opened the doors for a procession of horses, carriages, and soldiers carrying red and gold banners.

Kenny gasped. Visitors? Already? Her coronation wasn't for another week yet. She ran to her door, locked from outside, and rapped on it.

"Craig!" she called. "Craig!"

"Yes, Princess?" A nasally monotone greeted her through the solid wooden door. Craig had been her servant for as long as Kenny could remember, and her personal guard since he turned eighteen two years ago. He was a childhood friend she made mudpies with—or, rather, watched make mudpies while she and her dress remained unsullied and seated properly on a stool in the gardens—and played daring adventure games where she was a calculating ruler always ready to betray, something unthinkable in her actual ruling, and he was a cunning thief.

"Craig, get in here!"

"Are you in danger, Princess?" Craig droned. Kenny pictured him inspecting his nails as he asked this.

"No, but get in here!"

"If there is anything you need—"

" _Craig!_ "

She pressed her ear up to the door and heard his sigh of resignation, then sprang back as he unlocked the door and opened it, bowing before entering. Or, at least, Craig's version of bowing, nodding his head in Kenny's direction instead of the proper bow of full formality from servant to royal, a ninety degree angle bent at the waist.

"What's wrong?"

"Come see!" Kenny returned to the bow window and pointed. Behind her she heard Craig shutting the door again and loping over. He was a bit of a lazy guard, unlike her other personal attendant, Clyde, who took his position very seriously and followed every rule; but then again, it was a bit of a boring job. For all the Wizard's worrying, the only people who ever came to Kenny's room were her two guards and Wendy, a maid Kenny thought of as her lady-in-waiting.

Craig leaned over Kenny's shoulder to look down at the grand procession still carrying on into the palace grounds. "Oh, they've already started arriving."

Kenny whirled on him. "Who has? You knew and didn't tell me?" She smacked his arm, knowing full well it didn't hurt him in the least.

"Rulers and figures of political importance are gathering for your coronation. There's a reception tonight for the honored guests, or whatever."

"A reception!" Kenny's hands flew to her face. "Like a ball? With gowns and dancing?"

"I don't know."

"What time is it? I'm not even a little ready! Does Wendy have a dress for me to wear?"

"You're not invited," Craig said bluntly. "Which is why I wasn't supposed to tell you."

"Not invited?" Kenny echoed, moving her hands to her hips. "Why not?"

Craig shrugged. After another solid minute under Kenny's most regal glare, he sighed. "I think the Wizard's schmoozing with everybody tonight. Doesn't want to reveal you until the ceremony." He snorted and gave Kenny's shoulder an affectionate punch. "Like you're some delicate flower."

She laughed, too. "That's stupid." Craig readjusted his cape and moved towards the door. At the sight of his back, annoyance settled in. "Wait. Until the ceremony? They'll be here all week, and I won't meet anyone?"

"Guess not."

"Craig!"

He paused and turned on his heels in slow motion. Hands still on her hips, Kenny glowered at him a few seconds more before she had an idea. The corners of her mouth curved up into a smile.

"No," Craig said before she even got a chance to open her mouth.

"Aw, Craig! Come on, I want to go to the ball!" Kenny bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, imagining music, dancing,  _all those people_...a handsome prince, maybe—

"You can't. The Wizard'll be pissed if you spoil his shindig." Craig was Kenny's favorite person to talk to, even if his inflection never changed. Unless the Wizard's watchful eye was on them, Craig never treated her with a shred of propriety. He'd taught her how to curse, and she delighted in swearing for no reason other than because she could in all of their conversations. "And I'll lose my head."

"You can't lose your head. I won't allow it."

"You're not in charge."

"I'm as good as in charge! One more week."

"One more week," Craig agreed, and a rare smile ghosted across his lips. "It's gonna be kick-ass when you're Queen."

"Your job's gonna get a whole lot harder, though," Kenny teased.

"Nah. Babysitting you while you're trapped in a tower is rock bottom," Craig said. "It'll be way better when you're running the place. Everybody's gonna love having you on the throne. Hell, the _throne'll_ be thrilled after, what, eighteen years of dying a slow death under all that fat? Your dainty ass will be a blessing."

Kenny couldn't help giggling. Craig despised the Wizard, something he was very open about with Kenny. She herself was indifferent, since the Wizard's actions largely seemed to be for her benefit, but when she was Queen she was still going to keep the two of them apart.

"Well, this dainty ass is going to that ball, so come up with a plan to sneak it in."

"Nope."

"Come on, Craig! I don't even have to go as an attendee with a dress or anything!" Kenny latched onto his arm and shook him back and forth. Craig rocked indulgently, as if she had the strength to move him. "We can go undercover. I just—I want to  _see_ it!"

His shoulders didn't relax, and his expression didn't change, but Kenny could see a flicker in her friend's dark eyes that she knew meant victory. The difference between dry and flood.

"Come on, Feldspar," she said, plucking out the thief name he'd chosen for himself in their games.

Craig groaned. "Ugh _hhh_ , I hate it when you play the Feldspar card. Fine. I'll smuggle you in."

Kenny squealed, jumping up and down and throwing her arms around Craig, who rolled his eyes to high heaven.

"But you gotta do everything I say."

"I will!"

"And you can't go off script or run away from me."

"I won't!"

"And if we get caught, your dainty ass has to keep that promise about keeping my head attached to my body."

"Done!" Kenny promised. She jumped back and clapped her hands. "My first _ball_!"

"Reception," Craig corrected. She punched him again, and this time he feigned injury.


	2. Chapter 2

Craig could tell the minute the princess stepped out of her room that she was unhappy. There was no way in hell it'd go unnoticed if she showed up even in a maid's dress; the princess attracted attention wherever she went. So Craig's solution was to put her in some of his old clothes he'd outgrown. It was weird seeing the princess dressed as a boy. In fact, Craig only had a few foggy memories of her dressed this way as a toddler. As soon as she was speaking for herself, it was dresses, dresses, and more dresses. His clothes fit her well, but damn, she just looked like a girl in men's clothing.

He told her so, and she cheered up a little.

"I know you hate it," he said, helping her adjust his spare helmet and mantle. "But nobody'll look twice at you if you're dressed like a guard." He wasn't actually as sure about that as he sounded. For one thing, if they passed any other guards, the hoax would come apart at the seams.

Kenny stared up at him through light lashes for once not coated in makeup. Craig thought she wore too much. She thought she wore too little.

"Now, listen," Craig said, "even being out of your wing is dangerous. We can't stay at the reception all night."

"I know."

"More like half an hour."

"Half an hour!"

"Princess, come on." Craig put a hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples, one side with fingers, the other his thumb. "Every guard in the palace is going to recognize an unfamiliar face in their ranks, and our odds of bumping into one of them are pretty high. If we sneak down, watch a little, and sneak back, I'd feel a lot better about keeping this a secret."

Wendy knew, of course; she was staying in Kenny's wing to cover them in the unlikely event someone came calling. They'd agreed to pretend that Kenny was ill and didn't want company. Clyde was in the dark. Craig would trust Clyde with his life, and, more importantly, with Kenny's, but not with keeping secrets. Clyde had more tells than a hive had bees. He'd try, but he was no good under interrogation, and since the visitor they were bracing themselves for was the Wizard, a tricky word-twister if ever there were one, Craig wasn't about to abandon Clyde to that fate.

They were going to duck out and leave Wendy at the door. She would tell Clyde when he showed up for his shift that Kenny was ill and Craig was in her private quarters guarding her while she was especially vulnerable. Clyde wouldn't question it and would fret faithfully at his post.

Craig was a full head-and-shoulders taller than the princess and much broader. With his cape in place, he could shield her completely from view; he went first, Kenny on his heels. Down the stone spiral staircase, the exit of the princess's tower, through the narrow hallway into the servants' quarters, and then up the back staircase into the main hallway. Craig knew the passageways better than he recognized his own face in the mirror. Thank goodness the Wizard thought drapes gave the palace a wealthier look; there were plenty of hiding spots down the otherwise empty pathway.

In many ways, the palace's security was nowhere near where it needed to be to protect the princess. Kenny didn't notice, but Kenny didn't know a whole lot about the world. Craig wouldn't be surprised if the Wizard were hoping an assassin would slip in and kill her so he didn't have to give up the throne. Why else would the most precious life in the kingdom have two not-even-top-tier guards and a maid as her only defense?

He'd never shared this theory with Kenny.

The sound of chatter hit Craig's ears as soon as they'd skulked into the main hallway. He straightened his posture and side-eyed Kenny until she mimicked him. 

"Follow my lead," he told her.

They slipped into the reception hall, where Craig promptly grabbed Kenny's arm and dragged her to the floor behind a row of tables laden with food. The tablecloths reached the floor, and Craig pulled one up, waving Kenny in and slipping in behind her.

"That was easier than I thought," Kenny said. "We didn't even run into any guards."

Craig frowned. The princess was sheltered but not stupid.

"You'd think security would be stronger with all these important guests," Kenny continued. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, not quite licking, only tracing. "Or that we would've had some moment of panic where someone was coming and we had to hide."

Her eyes were illuminated even in the dark of the covered table. They both had blue eyes, Kenny's bright and clear, Craig's dark and cloudy. Day and night. Summer and winter. Truth and lies.

"It's always like this, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yep."

They crouched in silence for a moment before Kenny turned her attention to the tablecloth and inched herself closer to its edge. Thankfully the table was covered on all sides, but there was a slit at the corner that she could peek through. Craig slid over on his shins and hovered behind her as she pulled back the, for all intents and purposes, curtain.

There wasn't a single woman in attendance. That was the first thing Craig noticed. The second was that there were as many sheaths and helmets as there were cloaks and ornaments. The third was that every cloaked and ornamented man was around Craig's age.

Ah.

With seven days until the princess assumed the throne, the Wizard's time was drawing to a close. But there was one more political strike he could take: arrange a marriage so that when Kenny ascended, she'd have a king who outranked her. If that king were dumb enough to follow the Wizard blindly or grateful enough for the power that his will could be manipulated...

Beside him, Kenny sighed. It wasn't a sad sound, exactly, but not the dreamy sound of a princess looking out into a hall filled with handsome suitors. Craig watched the princess as she bit her bottom lip and scanned the room.

"Do you think one of them is my birthday present?" she asked, and though her tone was light, Craig didn't miss the twinge of bitterness.

"Well, there are two possibilities," he said. "One, the Wizard is planning to gift one of these men to you." She snorted. "Or two, the young noble men of the world saw a beautiful princess about to come of age and swooped in at the opportunity."

Kenny looked down at the floor. "I don't like either of those," she mumbled.

Craig looked out into the crowd again. A blond man in bluish-green dress and a silver circlet around his head stumbled into someone's guard and apologized profusely; a young man in a feathered cap appeared to have splits and braces on his legs; a man in a blue shirt with slicked-down black hair kept touching the tips of his ears as if something were missing. A depressing roster now that he looked at them more closely. His suspicions of the Wizard increased. An easily-manipulated bunch if ever Craig saw one.

The princess wasn't feeling chatty, apparently, and Craig wondered if she'd reached the same unfortunate conclusion. Or at least a similarly tragic conclusion that one of these guys was hers until death parted them. He kept scanning the floor in search of someone, anyone, who could be a proper king for his spitfire princess.

His eyes caught on what looked like—but couldn't be, but—oh, no, he was right the first time. A patch of bare skin. A bare back. What in the  _hell_ —

The man turned so that Craig could see his profile, and logic clicked in. The Barbarians. Those crazy bastards who lived out in the thick of the woods, the devil's den. They declared neutrality from Humans and Elves alike, and the only reason nobody accused them of cowardice was the fact that nobody else could survive the deepest circle of the woods. No one had ever tried.

It was hard to tell if the Barbarian were the royal or the guard. In their society, everyone bore markings on their faces, arms, bodies, and everyone carried weapons. Though, of course, those had been confiscated before the reception; Craig could see the empty sheaths belted to the Barbarian's legs and waist. His blond hair spiked wildly in all directions, his eyes darting around the room.

"Craig," Kenny whispered, poking him. "What is it? Is it the Wizard?"

"No." Craig cleared his throat. "It's nothing."

Kenny leaned in front of him and followed his gaze. She stifled a laugh. "Oh, yeah, it's nothing. How about helping a girl out instead of shopping for yourself? You and your blonds."

"You're lucky I like guys, or we'd have a royal scandal on our hands."

The thin strip of light trickling in through the slit in the tablecloth still lit Kenny's face enough that Craig could see her eyes softening. Just as she opened her mouth to reply, though, the light disappeared. Craig turned back towards the slit and found himself staring instead at a boot and a shin. Kenny squeaked in alarm, and though she clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle it, Craig could see the leg go very still. A second later, the leg dropped down to its knee and he was face-to-face with another shade of blue eyes. 

"Not a word," Kenny said, her voice low and hard with authority. Countering this, or maybe enhancing it, she stuck out her hand and put a finger to the stranger's lips. A guard. Some guest's guard. The helmet and protective cloak gave him away, but Craig didn't recognize the blue and red colors he wore. "We're here to see the party, and you didn't see anything."

The guard didn't relax his muscles, but his eyes took in Kenny's uncalloused hands and Craig's hand on the dagger at his hip. This guy was unarmed, and Craig might not be the strongest guard in the kingdom, but he  _was_ the fastest. Ideally he wouldn't have to slit the guy's throat, but if he so much as twitched against Kenny—

"Princess Kenny?" the guard whispered, eyes wide. Craig's grip on his dagger tightened. Kenny's lips crooked up into a little smile and she winked, and the guard's face flushed. The only thing keeping Craig from rolling his eyes to high heaven was his duty to keep his eye on any threat to the princess. His guess confirmed, the guard didn't seem to know what to do with himself. He shuffled awkwardly on one knee, then both, then switched to the other, all while trying to bow.

"Save it," Kenny said, voice gentler. "You'll attract attention to us."

The guard regained his composure faster than Craig expected, pretended to pick something up off the floor, and stood again. The boot didn't move, hovering protectively. Kenny reached across Craig and tapped her fingertips against the toe of the boot. After a second, she moved that hand over to grab the inside of the tablecloth and flutter it. The guard hesitated, then shifted around the corner to the back of the table. There was another slit in the tablecloth at the back corner. Craig turned in place while Kenny crawled past him to the new opening. The only thing to see through that slit was the back wall and this guard's leg.

"Your...your highness?" the guard whispered, crouching down again. "Are. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, sitting back so that her butt rested on the backs of her calves. This was the hardest she'd ever made Craig's job. "What's your name?"

"Stanley Marshwalker, your highness."

"Stanley Marshwalker. Would you mind not calling me by a title right now? I'd really prefer not to get caught."

Marshwalker sputtered apologies that Kenny quickly shushed.

"Anyway, I'm Kenny, and this is Craig. He's my guard."

"Uh. Nice to meet you?" Marshwalker said unsurely, his eyebrows knitting with more and more confusion by the second. Craig didn't blame him. He was feeling pretty baffled himself, though he didn't know why; he should've expected Kenny not to listen to him.

"Craig's my best friend," Kenny said in that same honeyed voice she liked putting on when she had an audience. Marshwalker smiled. "And if you're not nice to me, he'll kill you." Knowing a cue when he heard it, Craig held up his dagger. He was pleased to see Marshwalker's face fall at the sight of it.

"I-I would never...uh...not be nice to you, Prin—um." He paused. "Am I being threatened?"

"Only if you threaten her," Craig said, growing bored with this goody-two-shoes idiot. It had taken Kenny all of thirty seconds to disobey Craig's rules, reveal her identity, and charm some tool's inattentive guard away from the buffet splayed overhead. Kenny threw Marshwalker another wink and got back on her hands and knees to crawl behind Craig and look out at the party again. Once he'd gotten his blush under control, Marshwalker turned his dopey expression to Craig.

"I...the Wizard King didn't say she'd be here," he said. As if that weren't obvious.

"Couldn't you tell she's the guest of honor? I mean, observe the clothing. Take notes for when you go back to your place." Craig wondered fleetingly whose guard this guy was, then decided he didn't care. Based on his proper attire, Marshwalker didn't live in the woods. At the, weirdly enough,  _hurt_ look on Marshwalker's face, Craig sighed. "She's not supposed to be here, but she found out about the reception and wanted to see it. We don't entertain much." Thinking that maybe that was too much information for some pedestrian guard, Craig lifted his dagger again. "Nobody else is going to find out we're here. We'll be leaving shortly."

"Okay," Marshwalker agreed. He must've had the IQ of a dog. No, that was insulting to dogs. "Can I help cover her?"

Craig adjusted his grip on the hilt of his weapon. "You'll stay a respectful distance is what you'll do." 

Blushing again. He was probably the guard of that foolish blond Craig had seen bumping into other guests. "I-I would never...!" Marshwalker's eyes shifted from Craig's face to Kenny behind him, and a funny look came over him.

Shifting sideways so that he wasn't turning his back on this Marshwalker guard, Craig spared her a glance. She'd curled up at the corner of the table, leaning against the leg with one hand holding the tablecloth just open enough to look out. After years of practice, even a glance was sufficient for Craig to recognize the look on her face, the soft, sad longing she wore when she looked out windows or wandered empty halls, servants her only companions. Marshwalker, looking at her dead-on and at length, no doubt could see it, too.

"Why couldn't she come to the reception?" he whispered to Craig.

"Ask the Wizard," Craig said. The funny look on Marshwalker's face hardened. Craig still couldn't quite place it, but he didn't like it; it was the look of a man who knew too much.

"Craig," Kenny whispered, and Craig was at her elbow in an instant, turning his back on Marshwalker be damned. The princess wasn't in any sort of pain, though, or afraid. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and lifted one hand to point. "Who's that?"

Aware that Marshwalker's leg had reappeared on this side of the table, Craig followed the direction of the princess's finger, already preparing a sarcastic comment that she'd have to be more specific in a room full of strangers. When his gaze crossed the room, though, it was fairly obvious which guest Kenny meant. Along the opposite wall were a series of floor-to-ceiling stained-glass windows depicting the cycling of the four seasons through flora and fauna of the human kingdom. While guests clustered on either side of him, Kenny's guest stood alone studying the windows with solemn eyes. He stood out like a sore thumb, draped in bloodred robes, gold rope around his waist, gold bangles at his wrists. His hair was an impossible tangle of fiery curls, and nestled in the mess was a golden wreath that Craig realized was some sort of crown.

 _Gaudy_ was his first thought at such obvious flaunting of wealth and stature, but the criticism was soon overwritten with  _ballsy_ , because whoever this guest was, he looked grander and more kingly than the Wizard had or would ever. Craig respected that. His eyes slid back to Kenny, who was leaning her cheek against the table's leg, watching the man in red with summertime eyes.

"Who is he?" she asked again.

"No idea."

"Go find out."

"You know, I'm not supposed to be here, either. I'm supposed to be guarding you in the midst of food poisoning. If the Wizard sees me, he'll have my head." Fat bastard. One more week and Kenny would be on the throne. Craig repeated it to himself in his mind like a mantra.

Above them, Marshwalker chuckled. "Anti-social as always," he said affectionately. Craig looked up and saw that the guard's attention was fixed the same place theirs was. So this was the noble he belonged to.

Kenny made the connection even faster, her arm shooting out from under the table. She overshot the boot altogether and grabbed the dark fabric of Marshwalker's pants at the back of his knee. He barely had time for an embarrassed gulp before she'd yanked him back down to one knee.

"Who is that?" she asked, her voice warbling between a royal's demand and a starstruck girl's whisper. Marshwalker grinned.

"That's my lord, Ky—"

"Stan!"

The guttural voice that echoed out towards them knocked Kenny out of her reverie immediately, and she let go of Marshwalker and the tablecloth, shrinking back against Craig's chest. He curled around her as a shield.

The Wizard.

Marshwalker scrambled to his feet and adjusted his position so that his cloak covered the opening in the tablecloth, Kenny completely hidden from view. "Ah, your majesty," Craig heard him say, composed as anything.

"What were you doing on the floor, exactly?" the Wizard asked. Shrewd, fat bastard.

"Admiring the tablecloths," Marshwalker said without missing a beat. "They're as fine as silk."

"Not as fine as, Stan. They  _are_ silk." There was no pleasantry in the Wizard's voice as he spoke, only condescension. Interesting. "I wasn't sure you would be in attendance, as you arrived so late...in the day."

"My lord would not miss the reception of his gracious host," Marshwalker said. There was no unkindness in his voice, though Craig detected a hint of smugness. Pride, perhaps. "I do believe we shall retire soon. As you said, we had a long and arduous journey." The Wizard said no such thing, but Craig had to admit he was liking Marshwalker better and better the more the guard killed with kindness.

"I understand." Hoo boy, and the Wizard had clearly been thrown for a loop. "I've arranged for a tour of the grounds for your lord tomorrow. I'll attend you personally." Well, it sure as hell wasn't out of fondness that the Wizard wanted to be around this lord. Keep your enemies closer, Craig thought, wasn't that the saying?

"That would be wonderful," Marshwalker said. "When and where shall we meet you?"

"Nine o'clock at the west entrance." The gardens. Craig could feel Kenny tensing against him and already knew the wheels in her head were turning.

"Excellent. Thank you."

It was hard to hear footsteps with the number of people milling around and speaking, but the Wizard must have walked away, because a moment later Marshwalker was crouching at the table's corner.

"We should go," Craig said, relieved when Kenny didn't dispute him. 

"Of course," Marshwalker said. "It was a pleasure to meet you both." He disappeared from view again, and Craig knew instinctively that he would shadow them safely from the hall.

Getting out was as easy as it was getting in. Neither of them said a word as they made their way back towards Kenny's tower. They had arranged for Wendy to come out every ten or fifteen minutes under the excuse of fetching water for the ill princess, and they only had to wait a few minutes before she appeared at the door. She went back up as soon as she saw them, and they ducked away into a crevice in the wall until they saw Clyde heading for the kitchen where Wendy had requested he retrieve a bucket of water too heavy for her to carry. As soon as he was past, they bolted up the stairs and into her quarters.

Kenny changed into her bedclothes shamelessly, and Craig turned around without being asked since he knew she wasn't going to ask, improper though it was. A minute later, she'd crawled into bed and looked sufficiently pathetic while Craig kicked her discarded disguise out of sight. When Clyde returned and saw that the princess was out of the bathroom and lying in bed, he nearly spilled the bucket of water in his effort to fuss over her. Craig allowed it for a few minutes before ushering Clyde out.

The door had barely clicked shut behind him when Craig heard the rustle of blankets. Kenny was sitting up in bed beaming at him.

"Nine o'clock at the west entrance!"

"No."

"Yes."

" _No_."

"Yes!" She flopped back into her mountain of pillows before Craig could continue disagreeing. "You're dismissed," she sang, her hand emerging from the pillows to shoo Craig. He could hear her giggling to herself as he dutifully saw himself out.

Craig breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth as he passed Clyde on his way to his private quarters to sleep for the remainder of Clyde's shift. He knew a losing battle when he saw one. Nobody could say he didn't tell the princess he didn't think it was a good idea.

Then again, nobody could say the princess ever listened to him, either.


	3. Chapter 3

"Overkill," Craig said flatly.

"You said calling my woodland creature friends was overkill, so I didn't! How can this still be overkill?"

"Even without the vermin infestation, your plan is still to brush your hair out in the garden, using the water in the fountain for a mirror. Also, you just _happen_ to be wearing one of your prettiest dresses and singing along with the birds. And when Marshwalker's lord shows up, you  _won't notice him at first_ , giving him a good couple of minutes to take in your elaborate display of femininity. And then you'll be _ever so surprised_ at the _unexpected presence_ of Prince Charming." Craig looked down at her with a bored expression. "Overkill."

"I think it's enchanting," Kenny said, running her wide-tooth comb through her hair again. It fell in silky waves over her shoulder. "Besides, what do you know about attracting men?"

"More than you, considering your initial plan was to summon rats who'd probably eat you alive." Craig sighed for the umpteenth time since Kenny got up that morning. He crouched down beside her. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes," Kenny said firmly.

Craig gave her a level look. "I can't believe you're making me say this, but don't you think it'd be better if you were just, you know, yourself?"

Even though she knew Craig was just saying she should tone it down, Kenny bristled at his phrasing. "I  _am_ myself. A beautiful princess spending her morning enjoying _her_ gardens at _her_ palace." Sniffing, Kenny turned back to her reflection rippling in the fountain pool. "You're dismissed."

"The princess must be accompanied at all times by one or more guards to ensure her safety. Especially when the princess is trying to meet with strange men in secluded areas."

"Why, Craig, you're making me sound downright devious." She batted her eyes at him, though. Once this whole ordeal was through, she'd probably look back and laugh at the fact that Craig's nasally monotone never broke. 

Voices echoed lowly from beyond the shrubbery. The fountain  _was_ rather secluded, in a garden filled with flowers and tall bushes. It was a perfect place for private conversations. Kenny balanced herself gracefully on the edge of the fountain, fluffing her dress out around her.

"Can I make one more argument against this?" Craig asked.

"You may."

"The Wizard is the one giving Prince Charming his tour of the gardens."

Kenny froze. She'd forgotten. In all her excitement over a convenient meeting place with the man from the party, she'd forgotten that the Wizard would be escorting him. He wouldn't like seeing her out of her tower without his knowledge. He'd treat her like a child and send her back to her room, right in front of the person she was going to all this effort to impress. Craig would get in trouble.

The sudden onslaught of hindsight was such that Kenny nearly jumped out of her skin when a new person rounded the corner of the entrance into the fountain clearing in the garden. Craig was in front of her in a heartbeat, but as quickly as he'd gone into Guard Mode, a setting Kenny regularly forgot he had, he slumped back into Apathetic Attendant Mode. At the entrance into the fountain clearing, Stan Marshwalker blinked at them.

"Oh," he said, and even from this distance, Kenny could read a flurry of emotions passing his face. Somewhere in the midst, she caught a flicker of understanding, and even a hint of amusement. Before she could even say a word, Stan disappeared back into the shrubbery from which he came.

"There is a fountain ahead," Stan said to his company, presumably the Wizard and his lord. "My lord, if you would like to rest? Your majesty, if you would escort me around the perimeter to ensure safety?"

"...Of course." The terse politeness in the Wizard's voice gave away his displeasure with this plan. Kenny wondered who exactly this lord was, that the Wizard felt the need to personally escort him and didn't want to leave him alone while patrolling for safety. Someone important, maybe? Or someone dangerous? No. Stan was too kind and too diligent a guard to work for someone dangerous. Unless it were against his will—

The concern flew from Kenny's mind as footsteps approached, a long, thin shadow stretching out over the walkway suggesting her future company was not the Wizard. She shooed Craig away as quietly as she could, and he melted away into the trees, still watching like a hawk, she knew. Kenny had just enough time to turn back towards the fountain and start combing her hair when she caught a flash of red in her peripheral vision. It was him, the man from the party. He strode in with his head held high, his gait sure, but Kenny saw him jerk to a stop as he came into the clearing and saw her. Smiling to herself, Kenny hummed along with the tweeting of the birds overhead, tilting her head so that her hair fell in a protective waterfall over her shoulder; it cut off her peripheral vision of the man but would also certainly snare his interest.

Kenny had read plenty of fairy tales, leather-bound books written out and illustrated in meticulous hand, which the Wizard had gladly delivered to her room. This was exactly how princesses met princes. She ran the comb through her hair again, counting the seconds, waiting for him to say or do something that would give him away. No sound came from behind her, though, and a potential flaw arose in the back of Kenny's mind. What if he saw her and, being a gentleman, left before he thought she'd noticed his stumbling upon her? That would spoil everything.

It was easy enough to see if he'd retreated. Kenny finished brushing the comb through her long tresses and tilted her head the other way, as if to turn her attention to the locks spilling over her other ear. The shift in position did the trick; gravity pulled back the curtain of hair that had hidden him from view, and there he stood, openly staring.

Overkill, Craig had said. Please. 

Now began the acting part. Kenny let her eyes flicker over, easily drawn to the burst of red in her garden of greenery, a flame burning among flowers. She started with an "Oh!"—softly enough for the extra layer of girlishness she wanted for their meeting, loudly enough that her company certainly heard her—and dropped her comb. She'd meant for it to clatter beside her, maybe fall to her feet so that she could clumsily retrieve it, but the little splash that sounded and the flecks of water that splattered up onto her dress indicated that her aim had been off. Genuinely startled this time, Kenny spun around to see her comb sinking to the bottom of the fountain. "Ah...!"

Maybe Craig had been right about her clothing. A little water wouldn't hurt the dress, but there was no way she was going to retrieve her comb without leaning over or wading into the pool, and  _a lot_ of water  _would_ ruin the dress, and—

A flash of red crossed her vision, and Kenny looked up to see the man beside her at the fountain. He rested one knee on the fountain's edge, the other foot planted on the ground, and rolled up his sleeves. "I'll get it," he said. His voice was higher than she'd imagined, and softer. He leaned over into the fountain and retrieved the comb from its shallow bottom. The edge of his sleeve unrolled down to his elbows, skimming the surface of the water just before he retracted his arm. 

Kenny was sure she was staring stupidly the entire time as he turned to her and handed over the comb. This was her first time getting a good, close-up look at him. It looked like a different robe than the one he'd worn the night before, more casual, less intricately designed. He'd belted it at the waist and wore greenish-blue pants that, next to his red robe, made Kenny think of Christmastime. In place of last night's gold circlet, he had a green hat pulled down over his head that didn't go with the rest of his outfit at all. Normally, Kenny might bite her cheek to keep herself from laughing at what an unkempt mess he seemed, but it was hard when she saw his face. The bright red curls hidden under his hat were rebelling against their containment, curls peeking out near his jawline and neck. His skin was olive-toned, not quite as dark as Craig's but significantly darker than Kenny's, and his eyes were brown, brightly so, the unmistakable shade of polished oak. They captured Kenny's attention completely.

"Th-thank you," she stammered, taking the comb back. It wasn't even an act; she could feel her tongue tying the more aware she became of her company's handsome features.

"Of course," he said, and Kenny found herself somewhat disappointed that he hadn't said  _you're welcome_. "I didn't mean to startle you. I didn't realize anyone was here."

"Well, I did come in secret. I'm supposed to be in my chambers, but..." Kenny sighed wistfully, falling into the script she'd practiced. "It's such a beautiful day out, I wanted to sit in the gardens."

After a pause, the man leaned away from the fountain, easing his other foot to the ground, then dropping onto one knee before her. "Princess Kenny," he said, sure of his guess at her identity. She let him take the hand that wasn't clutching her comb and fought down the urge to giggle when he kissed the back of it. She so infrequently met new people that the greeting was totally foreign to her, and ticklish to boot. "It's a pleasure to meet you, even under such impolite circumstances." His breath ghosted along her knuckles as he spoke, his hand not relinquishing hers. She didn't rush him to do so, either. "Truly, I wouldn't think to trespass on her highness."

"There's no need to apologize." Though, actually, he hadn't. There was something charming in how he didn't apologize for stumbling upon her, though. Something boyish, Kenny decided, relishing again in the success of her plan. "I didn't mean to interrupt your tour of the grounds. You must be one of our coronation guests."

His expression faltered for the first time. "Yes, I-I should introduce myself. My name is—Kyle. I've traveled quite far for your coronation, Princess. My land is quite anxious to see you ascend the throne."

"I have faraway admirers?" Kenny teased, finally withdrawing her hand. Kyle's eyes flickering down and following her hand's movement didn't escape her notice. She set the comb down in the folds of her dress and folded her hands over it in her lap. "I'm flattered!"

"You would be hard-pressed to find a citizen of any kingdom who doesn't look forward to the day you are queen," Kyle said. The sentiment threw Kenny off; it wasn't an opening that would allow for a flirtatious reply, and the political undertone of it was hard to pin down.

"Well, I hope that I will do right by my people," she said carefully, mentally congratulating herself for what she considered a very queenly thing to say. "And by our friends and neighbors," she added, allowing her voice to sweeten purposefully, holding Kyle's eye contact. He smiled, but the corner of his lip quirked too sharply, and evaluation hovered in those brown eyes. Kenny paused.

She was being sized up.

Not in a romantic way, the sort of gaze an interested man might give a woman. That is, she didn't think so. No, Kenny was quite sure that her political mettle was being gauged. She straightened her shoulders, her desire for his respect burning through her. In an instant, the thought that she had played the role of a delicate flower in front of this man appalled her.

The shift in her nature must have been visible, because Kyle's eyes flickered with approval. He rose from his bent knee and sat a close but respectful distance from Kenny along the edge of the fountain. "I think you'll make a fine queen, your highness," he said. His voice didn't lilt with placation, and Kenny chose to believe that he meant it.

"Then I hope to do right by you, Kyle," she said.

Clearly not the expected response, Kyle blinking at her, vulnerable before her. Yet he recovered quickly, his smirk settling into something kinder.

Voices echoed from the clearing's entrance, and Kenny looked up with alarm when the Wizard's peculiar accent floated through the leaves towards the fountain. She jumped up. "Kyle, I have a favor to ask of you," she said quickly. The way Kyle's eyes darted behind her, Kenny knew Craig must have reappeared from his hiding place. "I'm not supposed to be out here," she continued quickly. "If the Wizard discovers me—" It was a foolish thing to say, she knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth. All that power and respect she'd held in the palm of her hand ebbed away as soon as she conceded obedience to the Wizard. 

Kyle's expression shifted, but Kenny saw no loss of respect in the darkening of his eyes or the deeper set of his mouth. There was only fire simmering beneath the surface, a blazing show of his control. Who was this lord, she thought, and how much power could he possibly have to burn with such intensity, such self-assurance?

"The Wizard won't see you, then," Kyle said, his voice low. "He's nothing."

Her questions, relevant and begging for attention, quickly gave way to a new observation: Kyle was protective of her. For the ups and downs of their short interaction, she'd at least appealed to him. If in a slightly concerning way.  _He's nothing._

"Princess," Craig said, and Kenny picked up her skirts. The voices were closer now, and she wondered if Stan were speaking loudly on purpose, because she could make out some of what he was saying.

"Goodbye," she said to Kyle before Craig whisked her off from the clearing and into the maze of shrubbery. They must have escaped just in time; not a moment later, the Wizard's voice rang clearly from the other side of the trees and bushes Craig had guided Kenny behind. Craig pulled Kenny down into a cluster of branches to hide, his dark eyes scanning the ground. There were plenty of leaves and branches, and Kenny knew that they wouldn't be able to escape both quickly and quietly. At least they were hidden until the Wizard passed.

"Ah, your majesty," the Wizard said, his voice rife with insincerity that made Kenny wince. Wait. 'Your majesty'? "Apologies for the delay. Your guard is...most thorough."

"Yes, Stan is an excellent guard," Kyle said, and his voice had also tightened. He had none of Stan's congeniality, the smooth cover of kindness Kenny had noted at the reception the night before. So the dislike was mutual. But why? What kingdom could possibly be represented at her coronation with which the Wizard was not on good terms? "The flora and fauna in your kingdom are quite beautiful."

"I'm sure our gardens are nothing like what you are used to," the Wizard said, his snub not in the least bit subtle. In some sort of placating move, he added, "I'm sure that the...flora and...fauna..."—Kenny almost giggled at the way the words clunked in the Wizard's voice, but the sound died in her throat as he finished his sentence—"in the Elven kingdom are beautiful as well, your majesty."


	4. Chapter 4

Stan had known Kyle his entire life. His earliest "memory" might have been sitting in his mother's lap clapping along as she sang a nursery rhyme, but his first real  _memory_ , that first clear, vivid scene in the film of his life, was of meeting Kyle. No concept of his parents' being humans in an elves' world. No idea yet that they'd left with the barbarians only to find themselves unable to survive in their conditions. No understanding of war. Only of his mother carrying him into the biggest room he'd ever seen and setting him down in front of a boy his age, and how they'd stared at each other's ears, Stan's rounded, Kyle's tall and pointed at the tips. How instantaneous their friendship had been.

After a lifetime of friendship, of being Kyle's closest friend and most trusted guard, Stan could read every flicker in his face, every twitch in his fingers. Even the particularly rigid posture of his shoulders that Stan could see now walking behind him was a dead giveaway. It wasn't until Kyle announced he was retiring to his suite and the Wizard's mistrustful face disappeared behind the door that Stan addressed it.

"How are you, my lord?" he asked, the image of propriety in case the Wizard were still close enough to hear. Kyle wandered further into the suite, away from the door, and Stan wondered if he thought similarly.

"You arranged that," Kyle said wryly, glancing over his shoulder. Here in his room, he pushed the tumble of red curls back behind his ears, the ringlets holding behind their pointed tips. As long as they were in the humans' kingdom, Kyle decided not to draw undue attention to his being an elf, though of course everyone knew. Except, perhaps..."The Princess."

"I did see her, yes." Stan returned Kyle's prying smile with a bright one. "Did you get a chance to introduce yourself?"

"Did she really just happen to be in the gardens when we toured?" Kyle asked. "You spent an awful lot of time by the doors last night."

Of course. Nothing escaped Kyle's notice. "I didn't plan the meeting, but I suspected she might appear. The Wizard told me the time and place within earshot of her."

Kyle dropped into the plush armchair by his room's fireplace, his brown eyes holding Stan's stare all the while. "So she  _was_ there last night."

"She and her guard crashed the party," Stan said cheerfully. He'd been thinking about it most waking minutes since Princess Kenny had fled the reception, how charming she'd been and how adamantly she'd wanted to know who Kyle was. The fact that she didn't know had piqued Stan's curiosity. The admiration all over her face piqued it more. "They left before the Wizard could discover them. The princess seemed..." His smile faded. "Quite alarmed at the prospect of being caught."

"Yes," Kyle agreed. He turned his gaze from Stan to the window, staring out at the tall trees and blue sky, but, Stan could tell, not really seeing them. "She was much the same this morning. Enchanting and aware of it, smarter than the fat bastard gives her credit for. She wields her beauty the way you might wield a blade."

"I don't think her being likable is an act, my lord." Kyle rolled his eyes at him, and Stan quietly amended, "Kyle."

It was a few seconds before Kyle replied. "She had no idea who I was."

"No, sir. She didn't recognize you last night, either."

Kyle propped one elbow up on his armrest, leaning his chin into his open palm. His eyes darkened. "What did he do to her?" he asked, his voice so low Stan wondered for a moment if he'd imagined it. "One minute she's teasing me, the next staring me down like a queen. And in an instant, frightened as a lamb."

Stan had no answer for his question. Nor did he think Kyle's tone invited commentary on his thinly-veiled interest in the princess.

"I wouldn't say a lamb, sir," he said finally. "The Wizard is still king. She won't ascend for another six days. And her guard is her best friend." His lips curved into a smile around the last sentiment, the situation familiar as an old sweater. "The Princess likely wouldn't be the first person punished if she were found breaking the rules."

"In six days she'll be queen. Why fear his rules any longer?" But Stan knew that particular pull in Kyle's eyebrows as well. An unfinished thought rested on the tip of his tongue. "He wants her married."

"A king who'll toe the Wizard's line," Stan agreed. Kyle adjusted the hand propping up his chin, covering his mouth with his palm, his finger tapping anxiously against his cheek. "The Wizard doesn't trust his happy homeland to stay the same when she rises. He needs someone above her and under his thumb."

"She'll change things." Muffled through his hand though it was, Kyle's words bled with hope. He dropped his hand then, letting his forearm drape over the armrest, and turned his attention back to Stan. "I don't think she has any idea how he's run this kingdom in her stead. I think he keeps her locked in a tower, and in spite of his efforts, she's developed a mind of her own."

"Kyle." Stan considered staying standing, considered kneeling, but ultimately decided to sit at the edge of Kyle's bed across from his chair, an extravagant four-poster facing the window. No more than two feet separated his and Kyle's feet planted firmly on the floor. With the mattress a little higher than the chair and Kyle a little taller than Stan, they sat eye-to-eye. "I have a question for you. Not as your guard, as a citizen of your kingdom, or as a human. Something I never would have asked before we came here."

The downward tug at the corner of his lips, the off-balance angle of his shoulders, the unblinking stare. All signs that Kyle knew exactly what he was thinking.

"What if _you_ married the princess?"

"And treat her as a bargaining chip? Use her as a tool, a means to a political end?" Kyle stood up, a favored tactic for reminding Stan that he was taller and more powerful. "I'd be no better than the Wizard."

Stan gave him a moment to huff, let him feel he'd communicated his anger. Then spoke again. "I didn't say what if you used her. I said what if you  _married_ her." The wider Stan smiled, the more Kyle's fury dissipated into confusion. "You've been king for a year now." They never spoke of the tragedy that forced the boy-king to ascend his throne. "The war is over, and our people worry about you. I spend more time with you than with anyone else, and I worry about you. You've withdrawn and become harder, colder. Like you think you need to be made of steel to prove you're worthy of being king. Like you're in this alone."

Kyle continued to glare but didn't interrupt, an obvious enough reaction: displeased agreement. Voice tight, he asked, "What does my coldness have to do with marriage?"

"I like her, Kyle." Stan leaned back into her seat. "And the Wizard fears her. Say what you will about her worrying about being discovered breaking rules, it's the princess who holds all the power here. When she rises to queen and sees beyond her tower, she's not going to sit back and let the Wizard's world turn. She's going to do something about it. We're not six days from a coronation. We're six days from a revolution."

"You haven't answered my question."

"And she's a beautiful princess who is, I think, the only person besides me who's teased you and lived to tell the tale. 'Stared you down like a queen'?" Stan raised his eyebrows knowingly as he parroted Kyle's words back to him. Sure enough, a partly-embarrassed, partly-annoyed flush rose to the king's cheeks.

" _Stan._ "

"I don't think she's a good political tool for you, Kyle," Stan said. "I think she's a good _queen_ for you."

Wide eyes. A curl coming loose from behind his ear. Slackened posture. Body language Stan had seen maybe twice in his lifetime but could read nevertheless: Kyle, well and truly caught off-guard.


	5. Chapter 5

“Your first ball,” Wendy said with a little sigh. Kenny could feel Wendy’s dexterous fingers lacing up the back of her gown. “You’re going to have so much fun, Kenny.”

Kenny didn’t have the heart to tell her that this was technically her second ball. Though, to be fair, this was the first ball she wasn’t crashing. And, considering Craig’s insistence that the last one had been a reception, maybe it was her first ball after all.

The Wizard had visited her quarters first thing that morning to announce that their guests were arriving for her unveiling, quote, “earlier than expected.” Kenny had nodded and smiled as if she believed him, then let herself smile for real when he announced that he had decided to put together a ball to welcome their guests. Wendy had arrived a few hours later with a garment bag, a weighty box filled with jewelry, and another box filled with beauty products.

Wendy could do anything.

For example, in the last three hours, she’d drawn Kenny’s bath with soothing salts and oils; manicured her nails into sleek squares; dried and curled her hair into soft waves; made up her face to glow without looking, as Craig so delicately put it, as if Kenny had taken actual paint to her face; and was currently fitting her into her gown.

Much as Kenny would have liked to wear something girlish—a sweetheart neckline, oodles of tulle, fifty shades of pink—the Wizard’s pick was more understated: a caramel-gold A-line dress made of heavy satin with a shallow scoop of a neckline and long, loose sleeves. If the Wizard were trying to entice a young groom, it wasn’t working. One look in the mirror told Kenny that all of Wendy’s hard work on her hair and makeup was for naught; she looked less like the bride and more like the mother of the bride, covered up and shapeless.

Wendy took in the slump of Kenny’s shoulders and the downward turn of her mouth, then went back into her arsenal of prettiness for a choker necklace, layers of pearl strings that covered practically all of Kenny’s neck. Putting a hand to her throat, Kenny flashed her an appreciative smile.

“I hate this dress,” Kenny said. She stared into her own eyes in her reflection of the mirror, Wendy’s sympathetic expression peering at her over her shoulder. “I look so old.”

“The Wizard probably wants you to appear demure and…I don’t know, more mature? Not like a little girl?” Wendy sighed heavily. “Which is so stupid, because you don’t even look like yourself in this. It wouldn’t matter if you wore a flashy ballgown, Kenny, you’d still look like the future queen.”

“I look like the future queen now. If you cut out, um, from here…” Kenny put one hand at the very edge of the modest neckline. “To…there.” She pointed to the floor where the hem of heavy satin pooled.

She imagined herself in a room filled with the guests from the reception. How bland and blank of a canvas she’d appear, a wife for some hopeful king to latch to his arm and drag around, someone remembered only by her husband’s name. Mrs. Whoever. Is that what made this dress the Wizard’s choice? It was like a placeholder for whatever personality her future husband wanted in a wife. It was a mirror to reflect another ruler’s wants.

In the sea of lordly faces that blurred together in her memory, Kenny thought of Kyle. The Elf King, the Wizard’s most despised enemy, the leader of her kingdom’s former foe. Yet it was impossible to align the Wizard’s warnings with the man who had knelt before her and kissed the back of her hand, the challenge in his eyes, the conviction in his posture.

_Beauty is the favored mask of deceipt._

But he had told her he thought she would be a good queen. He’d regarded her as an equal, with respect. And he’d chosen her over the Wizard. _He’s nothing._ Those words had echoed in Kenny’s memory for the past day, ever since their encounter in the gardens. Kyle didn’t like the Wizard, and the sentiment was mutual. But the way he’d looked at Kenny in that moment…

The idea of wearing this heavy, ancient dress in front of Kyle made Kenny want to scream.

“I’m not wearing this,” she said, meeting Wendy’s eyes in the mirror. The corner of Wendy’s mouth twitched up with approval.

“It’s repulsive,” she agreed, “and not you at all. But it’s the only gown we have that’s suitable for this type of event. Your other dresses aren’t nearly formal enough.”

The ball was three hours away. “Can you fix it?”

“I can and I will,” Wendy said. “Um, but, I’m going to need backup.”

Craig and Clyde wore different expressions when they first saw the gown, but they both said “No” at the same time. While Craig shook his head, expression unmoving, Clyde stared at the golden lump of fabric Kenny was swimming in with knitted brows and a mouth hanging slightly agape.

“Oh, no, Princess, that can’t be right,” Clyde said. “There must’ve been some mistake at the dress shop.”

“The dress shop, yes,” Craig repeated flatly. “Because that’s where the palace would get a gown for the future queen.”

“Shut up, Craig.” There was no animosity in the exchange, Clyde’s response more of a reflex than a command, and he knelt down to examine the fabric. “It’s like he put curtains on you, jeez.” The other three took a quick intake of breath. Craig wasn’t alone in his dislike for the Wizard, simply the most vocal about it. Wendy chose not to acknowledge the Wizard at all unless absolutely necessary, and Clyde’s opinion of him waffled from day to day. When it wasn’t high, he got careless like this, disdain trickling into his voice.

“So, okay, how do we fix this?” Craig asked.

“You just guard the door,” Wendy said. Craig was beyond useless with fashion or crafting, impatient and presumably color-blind, Kenny thought, considering the outlandish cowl and hat he donned when he wasn’t in guard uniform.

Clyde, on the other hand, was something of a wizard himself when it came to garmentry. “Wends, could you hand me the pin cushion?”

With Wendy’s occasional interjections and Craig’s unasked-for commentary from the door, Clyde pinned the waist and neckline. He took scissors to the sleeves without asking, though he certainly didn’t need Kenny’s permission to banish the unwanted fabric. Kenny removed the dress without embarrassment in front of her trusted trio of servants and sat on the edge of her bed in her slip while Clyde and Wendy each took a side and altered the top of the gown. In an hour, she had it back on and felt infinitely better. Clyde had converted the shallow scoop and matronly sleeves into a soft sweetheart shape that extended to cap sleeves, and with a tighter waist, Kenny actually looked like she had a figure.

They all stood around her, staring at the bottom of the gown.

“We’ve got a little more than an hour until the ball starts,” Wendy said, biting her lip. “What do we do with this?”

“Burn it,” Craig said.

“That’s not helpful, Craig,” Wendy said.

“I don’t know,” Clyde said. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“Hang on.” Craig abandoned their semi-circle around Kenny and disappeared into her walk-in closet. Wendy offered Kenny pearl bracelets that matched her choker now that her wrists were visible. When Kenny looked up again, Craig was returning from the closet with a dress in hand.

It was a dress-up dress from a few years ago when Kenny had only dreamed of balls like the one she was about to attend. A plain ivory top with spaghetti straps, a glitzy belt, and then layer after layer of enormous tulle ruffles. The Princess and Feldspar had slain many a dragon while she was wearing that dress. It was a little tight to fit properly, but Kenny couldn’t bear to part with it.

Craig held it out to Clyde like an offering. “What can you do with this?”

Clyde’s eyes lit up. “We can make a real dress is what we can do with that.”

Wendy chewed up her bottom lip while Clyde took scissors to the bottom of the Wizard's dress. He started on the floor by Kenny’s right foot and cut from the hem diagonally up to her left hip, leaving maybe an inch of fabric past the cinched waist. From there, he cut straight down so that all but the back of her left leg was uncovered. With only the sheer slip beneath to hide her legs, long, gawky things, Kenny looked down at his work with some interest. Clyde snipped the scissors in the air over the play dress and looked up at Kenny.

“May I?”

It was just a dress. Clyde had a plan. And Kyle the Elf King would be at this ball. “You may.”

Clyde cut the dress at the waist, casting the top aside and then cutting the bottom down a hidden seam in the side. He knelt down in front of Kenny and fitted the fabric against the cuts he’d made. Wendy picked up on his vision and dropped down beside him to help pin and cut the ruffles into place beneath the folds of gold satin. Where the fabric of the too-small dress ran out, they pinned it to the gold satin Clyde’s scissors had spared, making one full skirt. Once they’d fixed that, Wendy bustled the excess satin up under the waistline. Kenny folded her arms to keep them out of the way and marveled while the two sewed and snipped together her gown.

With hardly any time to spare, the trio stepped back to admire their work, Craig even going so far as to smile briefly. Kenny turned to look at herself in the mirror and dug her fingers into her forearms to keep from throwing her hands up over her mouth and squealing. The ruffles had made the skirt fuller, closer to a ballgown than an A-line, and against the ivory tulle, the gold satin seemed much less dull. She could feel herself beaming, her face already aching from the power of her grin, and when she looked over at Clyde and Wendy, she saw that expression reflected back at her.

“You’re beautiful,” Wendy said.

“You really are,” Clyde said, voice thickening with emotion. Kenny’s eyes darted to Craig, who put a hand on Clyde’s shoulder.

“You did great,” he said, and Clyde’s watery eyes threatened to spill over at the praise. “But we’ve gotta go, or we’ll be late in debuting her highness.”

Wendy ran out towards the servants quarters to freshen herself up, as she would be joining the rest of the palace’s maids working at the ball. Clyde and Craig readjusted their uniforms and flanked Kenny, each offering her an arm to escort her down into the hall. Clyde kept having to remind Craig to slow down.

“The Princess is in heels,” he said as indignantly as if he were the one wearing them.

The ball was in the same hall as the reception had been, and Kenny wondered fleetingly why that was, since there were a number of grand halls in the palace. There were so many rooms in the palace that Kenny hadn’t even seen them all, and she’d lived here her whole life.

"Ready for the big reveal?" Craig murmured to her as they reached the doors. At Kenny's grin, Craig and Clyde each took a door handle and pushed the two doors open to give her a dramatic entrance into the hall.

The guard stationed just inside the entry was Token, a friend of Craig's and Clyde's that Kenny occasionally saw around the grounds, and he beamed when he caught her eye. "Her highness, Princess Kenny!" he announced. 

A sea of faces turned to her, the same group of men from the reception but in even finer clothing and accompanied by even more guards and servants. Kenny fought to keep a straight face at the peacockishness of it all. Hands clasped in front of the skirt billowing out around her, she smiled and stepped into the hall. A disturbance a few rows of guests back suggested someone moving through the crowd towards her, knocking person after person out of their way. As the huffing mass approached, recognition struck Kenny. The Wizard.

He finally parted the crowd enough to take his place at Kenny's side, and the look on his face when he saw the glitzed-out dress Clyde and Wendy had fixed had Kenny biting her cheek to hold in laughter. The Wizard's eyes bugged out, his face the reddish-purple of a plum. For a split-second, his expression narrowed on her, and Kenny faltered; he was definitely angry. Then his mask was up, and he was turning to the crowd with a wide smile. Kenny felt a chill.

"Princess, our guests are delighted to be meeting you at last. Please, everyone, her highness will be sure to speak with each of you. Please allow her space."

No one crowded her, though Kenny didn't think they would even before the Wizard's garish announcement, though there was much gawking. With Craig and Clyde trailing faithfully behind her, she met lords and dukes and viscounts from across her kingdom and even from neighboring allies. One young lord stuttered and stammered the whole time they spoke, and she made an effort to be as kind as possible; another spoke softly, and she must have misheard, because she was quite sure he said his name was "Dog Poo." All the while, her eyes searched the hall for a burst of red fire.

If the Barbarian tribe had a reputation for, well, barbaric behavior, their leader certainly didn't show it. Kenny saw the Barbarian King take his place in line behind Sir Dog Poo and wait his turn to speak with her. It took all the will power she had to resist looking over her shoulder to see Craig's face when the Barbarian King stepped up to her. Shirtless again, branded with tattoos like teeth and strapped with holsters and belts for weapons that would have been checked long before he was allowed to meet the Princess, the Barbarian King admittedly made Kenny a little nervous.

"Princess," he said with a sharp bow. He spoke quickly. "Tweek of the Barbarians. It's an honor tomeetyouatlast."

"You as well, your majesty," she said as he popped back into standing, his mane of hair untamed. "Welcome! I hope you're enjoying your stay."

Tweek's eyes flickered over her shoulder, and Kenny pressed her lips together to suppress her smile from stretching into something clownish. Slight alarm passed over Tweek's face, and she wondered what kind of expression Craig was wearing behind her. When one wasn't used to Craig's seriousness, Kenny supposed he could be intimidating, but she didn't realize he was enough so to affect a Barbarian. As quickly as the emotion had crossed Tweek's face, though, it dropped into something a little harder to read. "Yes, thank you."

The Wizard arrived then, dragging yet another guest behind him, a blond boy with a silver circlet around his head. Kenny vaguely recognized his bluish-green cloak from the other night. "Princess Kenny," the Wizard said, insinuating himself between Kenny and Tweek.

Over the Wizard's shoulder, Kenny could see Tweek give him a dismissive look before bowing again to her and leaving. Hmm. The Wizard really wasn't popular with anyone, was he? Kenny frowned. She'd always been more or less indifferent to the Wizard, but now that her coronation was fast approaching, others' disdain for him was becoming clearer. 

"This is Butters," the Wizard said, shoving the blond he had in tow forward. "He's the son of Duke Stotch." The Wizard rattled off the duke's township, which Kenny missed because she was wracking her brain for who Duke Stotch was. She had no idea. "Why don't you two get to know each other on the dance floor?"

So this was the Wizard's pick. Another boring gold dress. Kenny turned her attention to Butters, who smiled brightly at her and held out an arm. "Would you like to dance, Princess?"

She smiled and took his arm. "Of course." Kenny knew how to play a part. She was ready to let Butters lead her onto the floor but had to wait until the Wizard gave him a little push forward. They stumbled into the limelight in the center of the floor. Somewhere behind them the Wizard was announcing that the dance floor was open, though Kenny wasn't sure she'd seen any other women but the maids.

"You sure do look pretty, Princess," Butters said shyly. "All those ruffles an' all, you look like you just stepped out of a fairy tale!"

When Kenny giggled, it was genuine. "Thank you, sir."

"Aw, gee, you can call me Butters. Everyone does!"

A simple boy, Kenny thought. Sweet and gentle, no doubt, from the hand that trembled on her hip to the way he mouthed  _one-two-three_ as he counted their dance steps. Would devote himself to her fully and treasure her, certainly. But simple. Naive. Would hang on the Wizard's every word.

Distaste settled in Kenny's stomach. Perhaps it had been unwise not to listen to Craig more closely all these years. To feel indifference towards the Wizard and assume that he would willingly step down to royal vizier after more than a decade as, for all intents and purposes, the King. This entire hall was filled with simple, malleable men. Kind men, yes, but foolish. Tall men, sure, but without conviction. Good husbands, thankfully, but weak kings.

"I hope your journey was pleasant," Kenny said, the band warming into tempo behind her.

"It wasn't so bad," Butters said. His smile never wavered, and the sparkle in his eyes was infectious. Kenny couldn't help smiling back at this poor, sweet man the Wizard had dragged to her attention. "Being in the palace is just about the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me!"

Kyle would have said it was the most exciting thing he'd ever done. Not that it was, but he would have said that he did it, not that it happened to him. Kenny allowed herself a little sigh.

"Princess?" Butters' whole face collapsed into regret. "Have I said something wrong?"

"Oh, no, not at all," she said quickly. "I'm so glad to have you all here, and so honored. But it's quite overwhelming to meet so many people."

"Of course." And from the gentle arc of his eyebrows, Kenny knew that Butters believed her completely. "Would you like to sit and rest? Can I get you anything?"

Being easily manipulated wasn't a good quality when one stood with the Wizard, but Kenny saw that she could take advantage of it, too. Get off the dance floor, have Butters dote on her. He was offering her a golden ticket out of the humiliating experience of having a room full of suitors circling her like vultures. Only not the vicious kind. The soft, sad kind that hoped they had a chance. Kenny bet a bunch of them would cry when she didn't marry them.

She was all ready to accept Butters' offer with delicate gratitude when she sensed someone striding up behind her. A form passed her side, a flash of red in her peripheral vision, and there Kyle was, tapping Butters on the shoulder.

"I don't mean to be rude, Marquis Stotch," he said smoothly, "but might I cut in?"

"Oh, of course, your majesty!" Butters said with a gracious smile, though he immediately cut Kenny an apologetic look. She willed her expression into lightness.

"Thank you for the dance," she said with a curtsy. His stuttering bow made her giggle, as did the self-aware  _aw, shucks_ smile he gave her when he straightened.

The Wizard was at her side the instant Butters faded into the crowd. "Your highness," he said to Kenny, his voice tight. "This is his majesty King Kyle of the Elf Kingdom."

"Princess Kenny." Kyle repeated his actions from the garden, only with even more decorum, sinking fully to one knee and bowing his head before her, kissing the back of her hand with such showiness that Kenny could feel her whole face flushing. When Kyle straightened, he ignored the Wizard completely, though Kenny was quite sure his smile quirked with victory. The Wizard stiffened beside her.

"It's an honor to meet you, your majesty," Kenny managed, training her voice back to composure on the word  _honor_ and willing herself not to break their eye contact. "I look forward to our kingdoms' continued peace."

"As do I. I hope to do right by my allies' new queen." The echo of her own statement from the gardens tingled in Kenny's ears, a secret between them. Kyle was flaunting their first meeting in front of the Wizard, and he didn't even know it. She smiled her recognition, and, without so much as a glance in the Wizard's direction, Kyle put one hand to her hip and took her hand with the other and spun into dance along to the tempo the band played.

Kyle danced more quickly and with more assurance than Butters, knowing the steps without counting and twirling Kenny out and back into hold without so much as a stumble. His fiery curls were free from that awful green hat again, his woodland crown twined around his head. To use him would be impossible for the Wizard, Kenny thought. Then she wondered if she would be able to manage it, if, like Butters, Kyle could be teased and flattered into fawning over her.

They had danced far away from the Wizard by now, and as if sensing that her thoughts were elsewhere, Kyle whispered, "How was your first dance?"

"Quite nice," she said. Any thoughts of using feminine wiles against Kyle vanished with the realization that this was their first meeting since the gardens, her first time realizing to whom she spoke. What a fool she'd made of herself before him last time.

"You seemed fond of your partner."

Kenny couldn't tell if Kyle's voice erred more on the side of amusement or condescension. "He's a very sweet man, and he put all his effort into dancing with me." The corner of Kyle's mouth twitched, the faintest hint of a frown, and Kenny batted her eyes. "Are you jealous?"

"Hardly." He spun her again, the tulle of Clyde's and Wendy's efforts swishing deliciously around her. When Kyle pulled her back into hold, it was a little sharper than before, his arms holding her a bit more tightly. "That's quite a dress."

"This old thing?" Kenny relaxed when the Elf King chuckled. They fell back into the dance, and Kenny realized that there were in fact other women at this ball, as many of her other suitors had found partners and joined them on the dance floor. With distractions literally dancing around them, the band swelling into full confidence, Kenny swallowed. "I do apologize, your majesty," she said quietly. "For my behavior in the gardens. I didn't realize to whom I was speaking. I should have acted with more professionalism."

"There was nothing wrong with our meeting," Kyle said, fingers curving around her hip. Kenny felt them burning against her even through the satin and tulle. "Nor should you feel that you must treat me any differently now."

"Of course I must! You're a  _king_." Kenny fought to keep her voice low and smile bright so that no one passing by would suspect a thing. "We are...colleagues, if you would. And in a matter of days, we will be true allies as equals."

"An ally," Kyle said, his voice dropping to a low that stopped Kenny's argument in her throat. "Is that all I am to be for you, Princess?" His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, holding her closer. Where his hand held hers to lead the dance, his thumb ran along the edge of her palm.

Kenny stifled a sound of surprise at the sudden intensity, the way the rest of the ball seemed to fade to darkness. "Ah...the Wizard," she whispered urgently. Kyle's eyes darkened. "He won't...like to see you so close." She squeezed his hand to assure him that she had no problem with it.

Kyle held her gaze for a moment before scoffing. "Then he'll see nothing." Nothing again. A word Kyle seemed to associate with the Wizard.

He spun her again, easing himself back into proper hold, and led her to the edge of the dance floor. More and more people were passing on either side of them as Kyle expertly navigated, weaving them in and out of other dancing couples and, soon, onlookers. How it was that the princess, in a proper princess gown, and a king blazing in red could sneak past hundreds of guests in plain sight, Kenny couldn't say, but when Kyle twirled her again, they were at the edge of the hall, past the stained glass windows and at the door leading out to the balcony. He pulled her in again, this time his arm immediately winding around her, and all but carried her out into the privacy of night.

Right under the Wizard's nose.


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as they were out of the hall and on the balcony, Princess Kenny let out a breathless little giggle and darted away from the light streaming through the open door and towards the railing to look out to the grounds below, the gardens and pathways decorated and lit with lanterns. Kyle followed her trying to keep his wits about him.

  _A good queen for him_ , Stan had said. Kyle had wondered that himself during their journey to the Humans’ kingdom, knowing that he and the princess were close in age. Uniting their kingdoms through marriage could be the end to their bad blood once and for all. Then he’d been disgusted with himself for thinking in such a manner, using the princess as political leverage.

The thought had again crossed Kyle’s mind when they met in the garden. Certainly she’d planned to meet him there, and if Stan were to be believed, she had admired him at first sight and really had been trying to charm him. He was more than a little flattered. To see her by the fountain, undeniably beautiful, and then for that sweet, soft persona to melt away into a woman who could stare him down. Truly the future queen.

It was these moments of fear that gave Kyle pause. Then in the garden, and again tonight, she’d expressed concern that the Wizard might see her disobeying his orders. What had he done to her to frighten her so? It would be difficult to maintain the peace treaty if Kyle ever found out the Wizard had hurt her in any way. He’d ring the fat bastard’s neck with his own hands. Or perhaps Stan was right, that Princess Kenny feared for the repercussions for others, her guards or servants, and not herself. Surely all that would change when the princess became queen. She’d been so quick-witted, so sure of herself before.

Looking at her in the moonlight like this was a mistake. Under the stars, the princess’ curling yellow hair had turned white-gold, and brushed aside as it was now, Kyle could see the gentle slope of her back, the curve of her bare shoulders. That damn dress, gaudy and frilly and stunning. Kyle couldn’t deny the burn he’d felt all over when she first walked into the hall, the way it rallied into flame when he realized every other man in the room was admiring her, the inferno at that marquis having her first dance.

The feeling Princess Kenny incited in him had simmered into self-satisfaction now that he had her alone on the balcony, and Kyle fleetingly felt embarrassment at that primal instinct. He pushed it down as he joined her at the balcony’s edge. Now was not the time to be juvenile. Now was the time to be a king, alone with perhaps his future queen.

Leaning forward, Kyle curled a hand around the railing on either side of the princess’ body, encircling her with his arms. She looked back at him, white-gold spirals of hair slipping over her shoulder, face flushed still with the excitement of escaping the hall, and held his gaze, her breathing slowing. The air around them was cool.

Embarrassed again at the effect the princess had on him, Kyle dropped his eyes, realizing too late that he'd looked away first. Given her the upper hand.

“Are you enjoying your ball thus far?” he asked.

“It’s quite a spectacle,” she said.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Again she saw through him. Kyle knew in an instant that he’d seen the last of the princess’ docile, doe-eyed mask. He swallowed.

“You’re even lovelier than I remembered.”

Princess Kenny exhaled a little laugh through her nose, turning away from him again to look out on her grounds. Kyle followed her gaze to the trees and trellises below, glowing in the light the lanterns cast. “Whisking me off to a private setting, putting your arms around me so casually, complimenting my beauty…I think you’re more jealous of Marquis Stotch than you care to admit.”

“Why should I envy him?” A boastful question to hide the flicker of shame. He _had_ been jealous. He’d hated seeing the princess, a vision in gold and white, forced to stutter through the steps of a basic waltz with a simple lord; despised said lord's hand on her waist, dancing too closely; _loathed_ his making her laugh, his bashful little smile at his success. Princess Kenny giggled again, and Kyle released the railing, his hands finding hers instead. Palm-to-palm, he laced their fingers. She allowed it.

“I don’t know,” she said in a voice that undermined her innocence. “Why should you, your majesty?”

In the royal sphere of society, there was little time for coyness. This Kyle knew from every interaction he’d had even before he’d ascended the throne, from noble women in his kingdom attending royal affairs to esteemed members of his court seeking a crown in the family by marriage. Even as their banter skirted around the subject, Kyle knew Princess Kenny was as aware as he what conversation they were having under the surface of pleasant chatter.

Without relinquishing her hands, Kyle wound his arms around her waist, pulling her back to his chest. “I envy no man here.”

She scoffed, a light, harmless sound. “Conceited.”

“Confident,” he corrected, and she smiled down at the gardens below. Kyle moved his lips to the princess’ ear, his breath tracing the shell. The slightest tremor ran through her, a shiver she’d tried to contain, and Kyle licked his lips. “Why should a king envy lesser lords? I have but two equals in this hall. The Barbarian King and you.”

Princess Kenny clicked her tongue. “You are not my equal in my palace in my kingdom.”

The assured tone she adopted had Kyle repressing a shiver himself. “Of course.”

She paused, and Kyle wondered if she wanted to ask about the Wizard, her kingdom's current ruler, notably absent from his list of equals. He would be absent if his title were Emperor of the World.

“The Barbarian King is no threat to you?” The princess untangled one hand from his and reached up behind her, brushing against his cheek, her fingers finding purchase in his hair. She tugged him closer, and Kyle took in a deep breath and held it in an attempt to slow his heartbeat. They were already far beyond the point of propriety and wouldn’t have the time to disentangle themselves if someone were to come out on the balcony and discover them.

“The Barbarian King and I are allies, and, more importantly, good friends.” Kyle would not have wanted to make enemies of the Barbarians, but he genuinely liked Tweek and was always glad to welcome him when he journeyed into Elven territory. “Besides that, I should probably inform your highness that he’s much more interested in your guard than your crown.”

At that, the princess broke character, pivoting to look up at him with stars in her eyes. “Really?” she asked, her voice squeaking. Kyle blinked. That hadn’t been how he’d expected her to take the news.

“The Barbarian King has no need for your kingdom. He is master of the innermost tangle of woods where no others dare to breech, and thus he is respected by all as a powerful ruler.” A smile sneaked into Kyle’s voice. “A warrior of fine skill and composure is another matter.” Better the princess’ stony guardsman than Stan.

“Craig would never leave me,” the princess said, though as soon as the words were out of her mouth, they appeared to trouble her.

“Who would?” Kyle asked, lowering his voice. He wanted to draw her back into the charged atmosphere of their earlier conversation, not Barbarian gossip.

The young king dropped his lips to her shoulder, the gentlest of kisses. He heard Princess Kenny sigh, and the whole world around them fell silent to his ears. She smelled sweet in a way that reminded him of home, the home he used to have. And one he’d never known.

“Do you have permission to act in such a bold way, your majesty?” Princess Kenny teased. Her voice was the very sound of composure.

He paused before looking up, having to collect himself. His eyes found hers immediately. “Do I have your permission?” he asked, his voice too shaky, too obvious. “Yours is the only approval I need, princess.”

He felt her other hand slipping out of his. Princess Kenny reached around behind her head and cupped her fingers around the loose tendrils of hair, combing it all to one side. Removing curls from the shoulder Kyle had kissed, leaving the skin bare. She batted her eyelashes at him, her smile knowing.

Pressing his lips to her shoulder again, the young king closed his eyes.  _Talk to her_ , he thought.  _Ask her about herself. Get to know her as a person._ And yet beneath those questions, a juvenile notion free of reason or responsible behavior:  _Make her your queen._

His nose brushed against the pearl choker fixed around the princess’ neck. Gasping, the princess jerked away from him. “No!” she said, hands flying to her throat. Kyle dropped his hands and pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. She stared back at him, her fingers trembling along the pearls. “Princess, I’m so sorry.” He dropped to one knee, then to both. Damn the fire still blazing in his stomach, and damn his stupid, foolish arrogance, going too far, forcing himself on her like this. After the fat bastard, he’d wring his own neck.

“No, you…” Princess Kenny’s hands slipped down to the juncture of her neck and shoulders. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m sorry.”

Kyle reached out to her, palms up, and she laid her hands in his. He rested his forehead against her knuckles, not daring to kiss even out of remorse. “You have nothing to apologize for. From the bottom of my heart, your highness, I am so sorry. My behavior was unacceptable.”

“No, it wasn’t.” She tugged on his hands, and he stood. “It was wonderful.” Even with only moonlight to see by, Kyle could see the flush on her face. “Only…please don’t touch my necklace.”

“Uh, I…I won’t.” Her necklace?

“Or my…” The princess’ hands withdrew from Kyle’s and ghosted over her throat again, hidden beneath the rows and rows of pearls. “Not there,” she said, and the particular hush of her voice sent fury plummeting into Kyle’s stomach.

“Why?” he asked, urgency thrumming in his voice. Princess Kenny’s eyes were already wide, growing rounder as she stared at him. “Princess.” He backpedaled, taking on a gentler tone, lifting a hand to brush her hair back from her face. She’d worn a scarf wrapped around her neck in the garden. He hadn’t seen her throat then, either. “What did he do to you?” he whispered. It took every bit of willpower he had not to raise his voice again. This was it. The Wizard had hurt her, tried to strangle her or slit her throat. Kyle could just imagine the scar she hid beneath the necklace.

“What did who do to me?” she asked, blinking up at him.

Just then, another person burst through the door through which they’d come. At first, Kyle didn’t even recognize the blur that passed them, but as the man grabbed the railing at the other end of the balcony, leaned over, and vomited, recognition settled in.

“Sir?” a woman’s voice called out, and one of the palace’s maids darted out behind Stan. Her long, dark hair was pulled back from her face with a ribbon, and though she wore the same dowdy dress as all the maids in the hall, Kyle could see even in darkness that she was lovely. “Sir, are you all right?”

“Yes,” Stan groaned from the railing.

“Wendy?” Princess Kenny called. The maid looked up and her jaw dropped.

"Princess?" Wendy's eyes flickered to Kyle, and he could see her guard going up, her posture and expression falling into neutrality. "Everyone is looking for you, your highness."

"Everyone meaning the Wizard?" The princess moved to fold her arms then seemed to think better of it, letting her arms drop by her sides. "I suppose I should return inside."

"I think that would be wise," Wendy said carefully. Kyle wondered if anyone in this palace liked the Wizard.

Before she left, Kyle bowed before the princess again, kissing the backs of her hands with what he sure was clear intention. Relief flooded him when he looked up and saw her smiling. Wendy whisked the princess back inside, leaving Kyle alone with his own attendant. He hurried to Stan's side to check on him.

"That woman sure was pretty," he said. Stan shot him a look that said  _shut up_ , since he obviously couldn't speak to his king so boldly in public like this. Kyle was sure he'd pay for his teasing later. "Are you really okay?"

"Yes, your majesty." Stan pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his mouth. Blue eyes flickered up, and Kyle knew to lean closer. With his handkerchief covering his mouth, muffling his voice, Stan muttered, "Craig. The princess' personal guard. He and I agreed to transfer letters."

"Letters?" Kyle was careful not to move his lips much, barely breathing out the word.

"Between you and her, so he can't interfere." It went without saying who 'he' was. Stan's eyes crinkled in the corners, betraying the smile hidden below. "The princess will be touring the art gallery on the first floor tomorrow morning. I have it on good word."

Kyle chuckled. "If I didn't know better, Stan, I'd think you were trying to marry me off."

"Good thing you know better, I guess."


	7. Chapter 7

Kenny flitted around the hall trying to stay a few steps ahead of the Wizard for the rest of the night. She spoke with different lords and nobles who’d traveled from all over her kingdom, people who knew a great deal more about her than she did them. Or perhaps, people well-versed in a fictional story they attached to her as biography.

They were good men, for the most part. Of this Kenny was certain. They were kind, smart, and generous. But also weak, and unfit to rule. Too kind to make hard decisions, book smart but naïve about the world, so generous that it was only a matter of time before they gave away what they’d earned, what should not be relinquished. Every single one of them was putty in Kenny’s hands, with a similar strategy used every time: tired tropes like batting her lashes, giggling, or putting a hand on her current suitor’s arm.

Among the Wizard’s guests, Kenny knew there were only two who outranked her princess status: the Barbarian King whom she’d liked but would never hurt Craig by pursuing, and Kyle. Candidates the Wizard likely didn’t think promising enough to consider threats.

She wondered if perhaps she was surrounded by wonderful men and blind to them all simply because she had met Kyle first. The Elf King challenged her, teased her, respected her as his equal, and spoke to her frankly. Yet he treated her as a woman. Recalling the press of his lips to the curve of her shoulder, she shivered, though her delight was short-lived as the memory continued into his nose brushing her necklace. What Wendy had helped her hide beneath it.

Butters invited the princess to dance again, while most of her guests danced with her once each. Kenny was sure it was the Wizard’s doing, having this particular fellow at her arm so often. She was just as sure that their closeness hadn’t gone unnoticed with the rest of the lords in the hall.

Kyle had reentered the hall soon after her, his red cloak blazing in a sea of tepid cool tones. Kenny was especially aware of his presence during her dances with the marquis. Somehow Kyle always seemed to be in her line of sight, arms crossed, as Butters anxiously spun her around.

That Kyle, who had no competition whatsoever in this hall, could rile himself up with envy over Butters made the princess impossibly giddy. When her dance partner thoughtfully asked if she’d like to sit or switch to another partner, she insisted on dancing more just to see Kyle’s frown deepening on his face, Stan conspicuously murmuring in his ear, probably telling him to stop looking angry.

At the end of the night, Craig and Clyde reappeared from the crowd at either side of their princess. Kenny knew they’d been with her all night, their training having taught them to blend into the crowd, guard her without drawing attention to themselves. She flushed to think that one or both of them had been at the doors of the balcony while she’d been alone with the Elf king. She bet Craig had stood watch for her.

“Shall we dance?” she teased.

Clyde lit up, but Craig cut him off. “Propriety states that common guards can’t dance with royalty, your highness.”

“Bet’cha he would’ve overlooked that rule if you were a half-naked hunk who lived in the woods, though,” Clyde said. Craig stomped on his foot, and Clyde had to bite his lip to stifle the cry of pain. Kenny had to contain herself from laughing too loudly at the sight, twittering behind her hand.

The Wizard announced her departure, and Kenny waved, rotating her sweetest smile around the hall. From the number of goofy smiles and waves she got back, she figured it was safe to assume a number of suitors thought themselves The One. Butters, interestingly, didn’t seem as lovestruck as many of the others, though he waved enthusiastically. Tweek gave her an almost conspiratorial smile and nod. She didn’t dare make eye contact with Kyle, knowing she’d give herself away with everyone watching like this. She focused her line of sight in his general direction and quickly skirted to Stan behind him, who winked.

Wendy was already in Kenny’s room when her guards returned her to her quarters.

“Your feet must be killing you,” she said.

They were. Clyde and Craig had all but carried her up the spiral staircase of her tower. Kenny threw herself down into a plush armchair by the window and whined, sticking her feet out. Clyde rushed over to help slip her heels off.

“She can do it herself,” Craig said. Kenny jerked her foot up, sending one high-heeled shoe flying at Craig. He tilted his head and didn’t so much as flinch when the heel hurtled over his shoulder.

“Okay,” Wendy said, finishing locking the door. She hustled over to where Craig stood over Kenny and Clyde knelt by her feet. “Tell us everything.” She undid the ribbon holding her hair back. “Starting with what you were doing with the Elf King alone on the balcony.”

“Yeah,” Clyde said enthusiastically. Craig grunted his agreement, and Kenny realized she was more embarrassed than she thought that everybody knew.

“Help me get ready for bed first,” Kenny stalled. Wendy helped her out of the gown, which Kenny repeatedly told the trio how much she loved and how perfect it had been, and drew her bath in the bathroom off of the princess’ bedroom. 

Kenny sped through her bath, put on a nightgown, and returned to her room to find her two guards and maid relaxing on her enormous bed. Craig sat upright against the headboard, Wendy with her hands folded in her lap on the edge of the opposite side of the mattress, while Clyde stretched out across the full length of the foot of the bed. Unable to withhold her smile, Kenny hurried over to her bed and climbed up into the center of them. If anyone else were around, Wendy, Clyde, and Craig would be the definition of proper servants, but after a lifetime of friendship and the kind of closeness that only came with such positions in the castle, this was the four of them at their best. Kenny never felt safer than she did when they were all together like this.

Wendy wove her still-damp hair into one golden plait down her back while Kenny took them through her night meeting the many guests, dancing with the marquis, and escaping with Kyle for privacy. She gushed about the kisses to her shoulder—Clyde whistled and waggled his eyebrows at her—and about their brief conversation.

“I want to be able to talk to him. I know that I’m attracted to him…” Kenny’s ears burned; the word  _attracted_ was so embarrassing. “But I want to learn more about who he is as a person. I never expected to feel like this with an Elf, let alone their king.”

The other three exchanged a look then that gave Kenny pause.

“What?” she asked.

“Your saying it makes it seem so real,” Wendy said. “That your suitor might be an Elf.”

“How ironic that the magical fatass finds himself replaced by an Elven king,” Craig said. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, Craig’s version of unadulterated glee.

Kenny flushed. “I didn’t say anything about marriage!”

“Yeah, but you love him,” Craig said with zero inflection.

“And want to kiss him and date him,” Clyde added more cheerily.

“And it’s likely that marriage will be expected quickly for you with your coronation only a few days away,” Wendy added. Then, even more quietly: “The kingdom will expect heirs.”

A solemn silence fell over the room. Kenny looked from one servant to the next, each meeting her eyes with worried expressions.

“I suppose…I’ll have to cross that bridge sooner rather than later, won’t I?”

“You know, I was wondering about that,” Clyde said. Folding his forearms against the bed, he propped himself up further, stomach still flat on the mattress. “If…you don’t mind my talking about it, Princess.”

She shook her head. Here with these three, there were no secrets.

“I always wondered why it was that the Wizard was cool with bringing you up as a princess,” Clyde continued. “And now he’s bringing in male suitors for you.”

“Kenny could be king if she wanted to,” Craig said from the headboard above. Kenny tipped her head back to look at him. “And if that were the case, the wonderful wizard wouldn’t have any leverage. But if she rises to queenship instead, he can marry her to a king he can control.”

Clyde and Wendy wore identical expressions of horror, and Kenny dropped her attention back to her hands in her lap.

“Yeah, but…don’t you think her husband’ll notice?” Clyde asked.

“Actually, based on the suitors I saw tonight, they might not,” Wendy said, contempt hovering in her tone.

“I think Kyle would notice,” Kenny said. It came out softly, barely above a whisper, and drew three pairs of eyes under knitted eyebrows to her. “…I’ll tell him the truth the next time we’re alone. If it’s…not something he wants, I’m not going to lie to him about it.”

Craig’s hand folded over her shoulder. “Tomorrow,” he said. Kenny blinked up at him.

“What?”

“Tomorrow in the art gallery. I’ve arranged it with Marshwalker already. Oh, and he and I figured a plan for running letters back and forth. If you two want to talk and can’t get away from his royal fatness long enough for a decent conversation.”

Kenny gasped as she sat up, then twisted herself backwards to throw her arms around Craig’s shoulders. Even with the frightening prospect of telling Kyle the truth tomorrow, facing that rejection…well, Kyle had expressed more than a little interest in her. Maybe it could transcend the secret she’d been keeping.

“Marshwalker?” Wendy asked, her voice far too casual. “Is that the Elf king’s guard…?”

“Hey, yeah.” Kenny leaned back into a more comfortable position curled up next to Craig, her arms still draped around him. “What was that all about?”

“He was guarding the door to the balcony. Or, at least, I realize that now. At the time I just thought it was strange that he was standing there. I asked him if everything were all right, and a bit about where he was from. He said he was a guard for the Elf king and said, ‘Can’t you tell?’ He kind of pointed to his ears. I laughed, and then all of a sudden he was covering his mouth and running away.”

“What a loser,” Craig said.

“Stan’s nice,” Kenny corrected, no bite behind her words. She slumped against Craig's chest, tiredness settling in all at once now that she’d stopped doing most of the talking.

“Hang on a second,” Clyde said. “Am I correct that two of my best friends have hot kings and one has a hot guard-of-a-king? What about me? Where’s my love interest?”

In the midst of Wendy’s and Craig’s protests, both sputtering to Kenny’s delight, the princess nudged Clyde’s elbow with her toe and gave him a smile.

“They’re out there,” she promised. “The absolute best, just like you deserve.”


	8. Chapter 8

Navigating the palace without running into the Wizard was easier than Kyle had hoped. Certainly the palace was vast; dozens of other nobles had their own suites in addition to Kyle’s and the living quarters of its permanent residents. Halls, wings, kitchens. It was a wonder he and Stan only managed to get themselves lost twice in search of the art gallery.

Well, Kyle supposed, a wonder of sorts. Tweek had found them on their way to the servants’ quarters thinking they were headed for the gallery. Kyle was relieved for their friendship then; Tweek smiled when they mentioned their destination.

“I’m headed that way as well,” he said, and Kyle didn’t think he was lying.

Along the way, they passed some other guests making their way around the palace, but no Wizard. Good. Kyle didn’t need that oaf to start his day off wrong.

“You’re meeting the Princess.” There was no question in the Barbarian king’s words. Though he spoke quickly as ever, Tweek seemed calmer today than usual.

Some combination of his friend’s uncharacteristic ease and his knowledge threw Kyle off, and he replied, “I am.”

“That’s good.” Tweek traced his belt with a sigh, his fingers catching in the loops that normally held his weapons. Without Tweek saying so aloud, Kyle sensed his displeasure at the palace’s policy that only its own guards could be armed. Kyle didn’t care for Stan’s reduced arms either. The idea of being vulnerable to the Wizard sent a chill up his spine. “She can handle you.”

Walking behind them, Stan snorted. Kyle shot him a quick look before turning his displeasure to Tweek. “Excuse me? Are you saying I’m high maintenance?”

Tweek grinned at him, the shaky, crooked smile Kyle never quite knew how to read.

How the Barbarian king knew where the art gallery was in a palace he’d never been to before, Kyle couldn’t say, but Tweek found it without so much as pausing to get his bearings. Outside of an ornate set of double doors, Craig stood in full uniform, armor and everything, not one but two swords on him, one attached to belts looped around either hip.

Craig glanced up when the trio approached him. “The Princess is inside,” he said, the inflection in his voice that of a man reading a scripted line for the hundredth time that day.

“Would she mind the company?” Kyle asked, wondering why Craig made him jump through these hoops. He must have been bored or something. Very bored, from the way he took his time mulling over Kyle’s question.

“Your guard will have to stay with me out here,” he said finally. “There’s only one entrance in and out. You’re free to check it if you don’t believe me, but I have no reason to lie about it.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Kyle wasn’t sure what to make of this strange guard. But the Princess loved him fiercely; that Kyle knew for sure. He remembered the frown that found its way to her face when he’d suggested Tweek might try to poach her guard for his own clan.

Speaking of which. Tweek seemed to have little interest in the gallery now that he was here. He strode up to Craig the way Barbarians always seemed to when they interacted with other people, their more casual way of life hindered little by propriety. Craig ignored him. Though, actually, If Kyle didn’t know better, he’d say Craig was trying too hard not to look at the Barbarian king.

After a few seconds passed, Kyle realized he was the only one going into the gallery. And so, adjusting the collar of his cloak, he pulled the nearer door open and strode in.

The gallery was as long as the reception hall Kyle had spent two formal events in. Columns lined the hall, and natural light filtered in from overhead. There was a wide balcony around the perimeter of the room; the second floor of sorts that it created was lined with bookshelves. The art hung on the walls beneath the overhang of the balcony, protected from the sunlight.

At the end of the hall, sure enough, the Princess stood studying a painting. Kyle debated feigning interest in the artwork for half a breath before walking as quickly as he could without looking like he was rushing to her side.

Her hair had been combed out straight today, a sheet of gold over her back, and her gown, though still lovely, was much more understated than the ones Kyle had seen her in. Long sleeves, simple skirt. It was white, though, and the bridal shade was not lost on the Elf king. His attention snagged on the golden-peach silk scarf wound fashionably around her neck and draped over her shoulders.

“Good morning, your majesty,” she said without looking away from the painting.

“Good morning, your highness,” he replied without looking away from her.

“I trust you’ve slept well?” Princess Kenny turned and took a few steps over to the next piece hanging on the wall. Kyle strode after her. “Your accommodations are satisfactory?”

“My suite is beyond my expectations.” It was true; Kyle suspected he had one of the nicer guest quarters and spent too much time wondering what ulterior motives urged the Wizard to do so. Now was not the time for such ugly thoughts, though. Not with this beautiful princess in front of him who hadn’t even looked up at him yet. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure that they were alone before leaning in to her. “Though sleep evades me lately.”

“You aren’t sleeping?” Finally she looked up at him, genuine concern rippling in her light eyes. Once they’d made eye contact, though, Kyle could see realization settling into her expression.

“I have a lot on my mind,” he said. Though there wasn’t a hair out of place on her head, Kyle brushed it back over her shoulder as if it were, just to touch her. She smiled.  Seeing right through him, no doubt.

“How is Stan feeling? Is he better?”

“He’s fine. He gets nervous around pretty girls.”

Kenny giggled, then clapped a hand to her mouth. “I shouldn’t laugh. Poor thing, that’s so sweet! I’ll have to tell Wendy.”

“Wendy is your maid?”

“My lady-in-waiting. Well, I think of her as such. She’s one of my best friends.”

“She and Craig?”

“Mmhmm. And Clyde.”

Another guard, Kyle assumed, pity clutching his heart. This vibrant, friendly girl, locked away in a tower by a wicked king. Soon it would be over, and she would be queen.

 _Your queen,_ the fire in his chest added. Kyle swallowed, uninterested in protesting that inner voice.

Kenny’s eyes traced his face a moment longer before she turned back to the painting. A troubled look crossed her face. “I never imagined being here with you like this,” she said.

“Like this?”

“The Elf king…” She looked down, her hand reaching out and ghosting along Kyle’s arm. Even through the thick fabric of his cloak he could feel her fingers. “Our kingdoms were at war for so long. If you had told me a few days ago that I would be sneaking out under the Wizard’s nose like this for you…” Her eyes flickered up, and he could see her gauging whether she’d insulted him. Quite the contrary, her defying the Wizard to meet with Kyle was supremely attractive.

“I don’t want to go to war with you again, if it’s any comfort. And I think this will be a very different kingdom under your reign.”

She quirked her head. Her frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Kyle glanced away from her for a split second and had to do a double-take. Hanging on the wall was a painting of the Wizard, or, at least, a muscular, handsome man wearing a hat and cloak the same as the Wizard’s. He held in his hand a wooden staff, the Stick of Truth, as he’d mockingly called it; in the painting, lightning struck the Stick and ricocheted down into the bottom corner of the canvas where two deformed monsters in red robes cowered.

Kyle’s stomach turned to ice. Grotesque though the caricatures were, he recognized that they were his parents. He was standing in front of a vicious glorification of the Wizard’s slaughtering his family. He opened his mouth, but there were no words, not even a sound, not even a gasp.

“Kyle.” The Princess’ voice was frightened, her voice rushed. “I don’t understand what happened. I was here in the gallery last week, and the paintings were all flowers and mountains and starry skies. Now it’s…”

As her voice trailed off, Kyle glanced behind him and saw that the paintings he’d ignored before were just as offensive. Golden images of the Wizard as a false prophet delivering his kingdom from the claws of brutal, repulsive figures in red. Some depicted the Wizard casting spells, others with him swinging a bloodied weapon.

Vision going fuzzy, Kyle swayed on his feet. He was vaguely aware of the Princess saying his name again, her hands on his elbows guiding him towards one of the sofas set up in the center of the room. She eased him down to a plush cushioned seat, and he steadied himself, staring at his hands in his lap so he didn’t have to look up at the lies hung on the walls to be admired.

Princess Kenny sat down by his side, the hand on his arm cautiously moving to his back. As she traced small circles between his shoulder blades, Kyle breathed deeply to collect his thoughts.

“I’ve never seen these paintings before,” she said softly. “But, Kyle…if I had seen these a week ago, I wouldn’t have thought anything of them.”

Kyle stiffened at her words, and he felt the princess’s hand hesitate on his back.

“I was raised in fear that the Elves wouldn’t honor our peace treaty, that my life was in constant danger even now that war is behind us.” Though her voice was soft, it didn't waver. "All my life, these are the Elves as I've imagined them. Monsters." Princess Kenny's hand dropped down and slipped into one of Kyle's, giving his palm a faint squeeze. "But you're not a monster. And those paintings certainly aren't the Wizard." She tipped her head forward, nuzzling her nose into Kyle's curls. "What's the truth, Kyle?" she whispered.

A clattering at the other end of the hall nearly stopped Kyle's heart. Princess Kenny was up on her feet and well out of his reach in the time it took him to look in the direction of the sound: the door opening again, the Wizard barging through with Marquis Stotch in tow. Kyle had just enough time to straighten his shoulders before the Wizard jerked to a stop.

"Your majesty," he said, that telltale ring of insincerity present as ever. "I saw your guard outside with our Craig." Kyle bristled at the glint in the Wizard's eyes as they flickered up to the Princess' back. "Funny, you'd think a lifelong guard in our palace would know better than to leave the sole heir to the throne  _un_ guarded."

"I'm perfectly safe," Princess Kenny said. She didn't turn around, appearing totally engrossed in the artwork. "Craig never leaves me unguarded."

"Hm." The Wizard smiled, but it was all teeth. Kyle stood up.

"Marquis Stotch," he said, tipping his head. Flustered, the marquis bowed so deeply so quickly he nearly threw himself off balance.

"Good morning, your majesty!"

At the sound of his voice, Princess Kenny turned and smiled. Kyle tried not to read too much into it. "Butters!"

While the marquis bounced to her side and fawned over her, Kyle resisted the urge to look over at the Wizard. Even in his peripheral vision he could see the fat bastard easing into smugness. This pawn of his he was foisting on Princess Kenny.

"Where are my paintings?" Princess Kenny asked. Her tone was so conversational, Kyle almost missed the sudden chill in the hall.

"...Excuse me?" the Wizard asked.

"My paintings," she repeated. "Last week, this hall was filled with lovely paintings of flowers, oceans, stars. Today they are gone. I want these paintings gone and those returned."

"...Of course," the temporary king said through gritted teeth. Marquis Stotch glanced at the closest painting and started in alarm, quietly telling the princess he agreed that pictures of flowers sounded much nicer.

Kyle knew he'd lost her for the day; the Wizard wouldn't leave them alone again. But in his mind, he was composing a letter to her planning where and when they could meet again, as soon as possible. Stan wouldn't let him down, and Craig wouldn't let her down. And Kyle wouldn't let Princess Kenny down, either. The truth had been kept from her for too long. With the days to her coronation whittling down, her history couldn't be kept from her any longer. These stories, these Wizard-approved versions of history, wouldn't stand.

Not on Kyle's watch.


	9. Chapter 9

Butters was a “nice fella,” to use the kinds of words the marquis himself favored, and that meant Kenny could ease herself out of any forced interactions with grace. All it took was a little yawn or a request to sit for a while, looking up at him through her lashes, and Butters was fawning all over her tiredness. In truth, Kenny wouldn’t have minded spending time with the marquis, whom she considered a new friend, if it didn’t interrupt her time with Kyle, and especially if it didn’t involve the Wizard chaperoning them.  
  
There was something in the Wizard’s expression when he watched over them that Kenny didn’t like. It was as if he’d already decided they were a match and was planning a wedding. Actually, Kenny was quite positive that’s what she was reading on the Wizard’s face. The idea of being forced into marriage was horrible enough, but for the Wizard’s plan to control Butters as well, a sweet young man Kenny felt protective of in an almost familial way, was out of the question.  
  
Kyle had excused himself shortly after the Wizard’s arrival, and Kenny figured she had to put up with the Wizard’s change to her morning plans for at least an hour before retiring. With a coldness she might have thought impossible before the Elf King’s arrival, Kenny announced that she no longer wanted to look at these paintings and strode for the exit, Butters faithfully at her elbow, the Wizard eerily quiet behind them.  
  
Clyde was standing at the door, and Kenny masked her surprise before the Wizard exited. “Good morning, Princess,” Clyde said with just a shade too much familiarity. Kenny narrowed her eyes at him for a split second before returning the greeting in a lilting voice. He straightened his shoulders.  
  
“Where’s Craig?” the Wizard asked. Kenny disliked his tone, the shrewdness in his words.  
  
“One of our guests required assistance from the palace staff. I had just joined Craig for duty, so he went to help our company.”  
  
It was a good answer, especially for Clyde, and the Wizard grunted, side-stepping Butters and Kenny to lead the group. Once he was past, Clyde winked at Kenny, who bit her lip to keep from smiling. She could always count on Clyde to keep her in the loop on good gossip. As she and Butters passed, her loyal guard took up the rear of their group and followed.  
  
For the next hour, Butters escorted her through the various halls, admiring the tapestries and decoration of the palace. Whatever knowledge the Wizard had withheld from Kenny of the outside world, he’d made sure she was fully knowledgeable of the palace and its history. Kenny resigned herself to giving Butters the tour she’d hoped to give Kyle. Butters was an attentive audience, marveling as Kenny pointed out details in the palace and rattled off their history.  
  
By the time they reached the east wing, so close and yet so far from Kenny’s own tower, she began her routine playing up to Butters’ chivalrous nature. He insisted she rest, and the Wizard insisted she was fine, a steely glint in his eye when he caught the princess’ gaze over Butters’ head. To Kenny’s supreme shock, Butters put his foot down.  
  
“Now, your majesty, that’s not nice! Princess Kenny is having a very overwhelming week, what with all these guests, an’ her coronation comin’ up. You gotta do right by her an’ make sure she’s feelin’ okay.”  
  
His words clumped together in the awkward speech of commoners, not royalty, but the affection that swelled in Kenny’s heart was fit for a king. She beamed and thanked him for his kindness, and Clyde shuttled her off before the Wizard could rebut.  
  
It wasn’t until they reached the spiral staircase of her tower that Clyde spoke. “How you holding up, Princess?”  
  
“I’m fine, Clyde.” She bumped his shoulder with affection.  
  
“Sorry about having your date interrupted. I mean, I know you know there’s nothing we can do right now when he shows up, but I still feel bad.”  
  
“Don’t. You’re right, you’re just doing your jobs. And you’ll have a new boss in three days.” She winked. “If you play your cards right, she might promote you to queensguard.”  
  
“Well, gosh!” Clyde said. Despite the overacting of his throwing a hand over his heart and widening his eyes at her, Kenny could hear all too clearly in his voice that he was touched. She swallowed, not sure how to respond; surely Clyde knew that she trusted no one more than Craig and him to be her guards.  
  
When they came into her room, Craig was sitting on her bed with his legs and arms crossed, Wendy hovering over him with her hands on her hips.  
  
“Hey, Mr. Casual,” Kenny chided jokingly when Craig looked up. “I hear you ran off with one of our esteemed guests. My own guard leaving me alone with a suitor! How…barbaric.”  
  
Craig rolled his eyes and held up his hand, waving an envelope. “You know, I have half a mind not to pass this on.”  
  
“Give it!” Kenny shrieked, diving. Though she tackled right into Craig, he held his freakishly long arm out over his head and well out of her reach. She whined, straining for it, while Craig snorted, his nose whistling. A blur of motion crossed Kenny’s peripheral vision, and then Craig squawked and went slack under her. When Kenny looked up, Clyde was standing next to her bed with the envelope, only slightly bent, in hand.  
  
He turned it over without giving her any grief, which Kenny made a point of noting aloud when she thanked him.  
  
The envelope was blank, but inside was a letter written on thick, rich paper. The script inked over it wasn’t nearly as elegant as one might expect for a king, but Kenny was giddy nonetheless as she read Kyle’s note.  
  
_My dearest Princess, a picture is worth a thousand words, but you and I have millions. Alone I feel I have ten million to share. Ever yours._  
  
It wasn’t signed, and when Craig looked over his shoulder, he scoffed. “Did he seriously think I’d get intercepted?”  
  
“Be quiet, Craig,” Kenny said, her eyes glued to ever yours. What beautiful words. Words that should be said every day, really.  
  
“It’s kind of a goofy letter, isn’t it?” Clyde said over her shoulder. “I mean, cliché sayings and all.”  
  
“It’s a riddle, Clyde,” Wendy said with more than a little exasperation. “To set up a private meeting.” Wendy read romance novels religiously, a secret only Kenny knew, and her mind could unravel any tangled web when it came to love stories.  
  
“Pictures…the paintings,” Kenny said, remembering how white Kyle’s face had gone when he saw the horrific pieces the Wizard had put up in the gallery. “He wants to meet in the gallery. To replace those awful paintings.”  
  
“Awful paintings?” Wendy asked. Kenny quickly filled them in on the replacements made in the gallery, and by the end of her recap, even Craig gaped at her.  
  
“I couldn’t understand it,” Kenny said. “I walked through the gallery staring at each painting wondering why such gruesome things even existed. It didn’t even occur to me how it would hurt Kyle.” Her voice dropped with guilt.  
  
“I’ll do some intel,” Wendy said, brushing off her apron. “Someone had to move those paintings, and someone knows where the previous ones are now. I’ll find out for you.”  
  
“But when are they meeting?” Clyde asked, squinting at Kyle’s letter.  
  
“Ten,” Kenny said. Alone I feel I have ten million to share. “He wants to meet me alone at ten.”  
  
Wendy’s nostrils flared. “I’ll have the location of those paintings to you by nine.”  
  
As always, she was better than her word. Within the hour, Wendy had returned to Kenny’s room to happen upon Kenny and Clyde wheedling for details about Craig’s business with the Barbarian king.  
  
“Nobody knows who switched out the paintings,” Wendy said, “which is a pretty good indicator that the Wizard did it himself.”  
  
“Sounds about right,” Craig said, clearly eager to shift the topic of conversation.

“But Bebe took me down to the art storage, and the paintings were all there. So it won’t be hard to retrieve them.”  
  
“Perfect,” Kenny said. “Now get over here and help us bully Craig into giving us the dirty details of his mysterious meeting with the barbarian king.”


	10. Chapter 10

Stan had thought that the cryptic note was a mistake, but until he and the princess's guard had their postal system in order, Kyle wasn't taking any chances. Heaven forbid the letter fall into the wrong hands. The wrong, fat, disgusting hands. The Elf king would have to trust that his princess would read and understand that he wanted to see her. If anyone else picked it up, the inarticulate letter would have all the semblance of a lovelorn schoolboy passing notes in class: the perfect cover that could be chalked up to any of the numerous guests in the palace now.

And at ten o'clock on the nose, the princess and her stone-faced guard arrived where Kyle and Stan were waiting at the door to the gallery. Kyle shot Stan a superior look before stepping forward to greet the princess. He took both her hands and kissed them. "I knew you'd come."

She giggled. "Good evening to you as well, your majesty." Smiling over his shoulder, she added, "Stan."

"Princess," he replied.

Kyle mirrored her acknowledging his attendant. "Good evening, Craig."

Craig blinked at him. Princess Kenny struck like a cobra, jabbing her elbow into his side before returning her hand demurely to the front of her skirt. Craig grunted. "Your majesty."

Behind him, Kyle was sure he heard Stan cough over a laugh.

Craig took the lead heading into the gallery while Stan followed behind Kyle and Princess Kenny. The gallery was empty.

"There's only one way in or out," Craig said, gesturing to the door through which they had come. Kyle nodded; he'd said as much earlier when they approached. Speaking of which.

"Tweek said he was coming down here, too," Kyle said. "Ah...the Barbarian king. Did he join you in the gallery after we left, Princess?"

"He did not," she said. Though it was hard to make out much more than shadows on her face, Kyle could hear her smile in her voice.

"Anyway," Craig said sharply. Which normally Kyle wouldn't have tolerated, but right now the priority was the princess. "The paintings are being held in our art store room in the basement."

"The paintings?" Kyle echoed.

"The artwork that was originally on display," Princess Kenny clarified. "We're going to put it back up, aren't we?"

Kyle's eyebrows shot up. All he'd meant in his letter was for her to meet him in the gallery, but she appeared to credit him with the scheme to restore her gallery. Bolder and fiercer than he'd ever expected.

"We're at your service, your highness," he said.

"Being held...you make it sound like the paintings are hostages," Stan said. Craig seemed to consider this.

"In order to make the most of the wall space in our gallery, the palace mostly displays smaller canvas artwork as opposed to enormous portraits," he said. "A single person could move almost everything we have in storage."

"Well, that answers one question," Kyle said, and Craig nodded at him. There was no need to elaborate in words.

"So what should our plan be for restoring my gallery?" Princess Kenny asked, crossing her arms. Kyle smiled. _Her_ gallery. Yes.

"Well, it depends on what you want to do with the replacements," Craig said, and Kyle wondered if he were purposely avoiding calling them _art_ or _paintings_.

"I'd like them permanently removed," the princess said.

"All right," Craig said. "Well, I think two of us should go down to the store room to bring up the art, and two of us should stay here and remove these."

"Fair enough," Kyle said. "Any proposals for how we're to be divided?"

Craig evaluated him carefully. "She and I are the ones who know where the store room is," he said, tilting his head towards Princess Kenny. "And I think the princess should choose the art that we display. However...should someone happen upon the gallery while we're gone, it would be bad if the two of you were found removing this particular selection of displays."

Again, what was left unsaid seemed to ring at the loudest volume. "Agreed," Kyle said.

"Why don't the four of us all go downstairs together?" Princess Kenny asked. "It'll take less time to transport everything with more hands."

"It's also more conspicuous and makes it harder for everyone to hide should another person come upon us," Craig said. "Two people might be able to duck out of sight, but four would be difficult, especially in more open hallways. And guards are patrolling pretty regularly."

"So, two and two, then," Stan said. "How about I escort the princess downstairs, and you stay with my lord? I can serve as her protection, and should someone happen upon this room, they'll be much more likely to accept that the princess's personal guard is carrying out her wish to replace the art. There's room in here for one person to hide, so the king could be out of sight."

"Your plan makes sense," Craig agreed slowly, "but I hesitate to leave the princess without her own guard."

"As any proper attendant would," Kyle said. They were wasting too much time talking, precious time that was meant to be spent alone with the princess. "But Stan would be the vulnerable one if he were caught alone with the princess." In fact, it seemed less beneficial than for Stan and Kyle to be found taking down the paintings.

"Or it could be an advantage to have her as a hostage." Craig shrugged. "Not that I don't like you two, but a guard has to stay sharp." Kyle understood, even if he resented the sentiment against Stan.

"We're wasting time," Princess Kenny said, and the three men turned to her. "Stan, come with me. Craig, you stay here with his majesty. If the alarm goes up that anything's happened to me, slit his throat."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the gallery again, leaving the three of them speechless behind her. Finally Stan jogged out the door after her, hand on his belt.

"Did she just..." Kyle wasn't sure where he was going with that question, but the three words he got out seemed to ask just fine on their own.

"Yep," Craig said, his nasally voice unperturbed. "She's in charge. Get used to it, your majesty."

* * *

 

Stan caught up to the princess in a matter of seconds, more than a little alarmed at how she'd upended his expectations. "Your highness," he whispered as he came up behind her. She didn't slow her pace but turned her head slightly to indicate that she'd heard him. "Your highness, what...?"

"I told you when we first met, Stan," she said, her voice sweet as anything. "If you're not nice to me, Craig will kill you. That hasn't changed, except now it's your king who'll pay the price if we're not friends." She tapped the tip of his nose with one finger. "I know I don't have anything to worry about with you, but Craig needed a little extra insurance. He's terribly overprotective."

Well, she certainly knew how to get the job done. More pressure than ever to stay out of sight and keep her safe. "You know, you're scarier than I gave you credit for, your highness."

She winked at him.

It wasn't hard to avoid the guards patrolling, which concerned Stan more than a little. They only encountered maybe three of them, and all were moving at glacial and somewhat noisy paces. Hearing them coming and ducking out of sight behind columns and tapestries was the easiest guard work Stan had ever undertaken. He watched Princess Kenny carefully for her reactions.

"I'm sure there are more guards in your neck of the woods," she said, unprompted, and Stan didn't want to admit that it was true. He and Kyle had been ducking guards left and right to sneak down to the gallery.

"Certainly guests' quarters are well-guarded," he said, "as must yours be, Princess." He wondered where her quarters were; they were clearly in one of the restricted wings.

"No, just Kyle's," she said softly. A second later, she corrected herself: "Your lord's. The Elf king's."

Stan didn't doubt it and wondered why he was so troubled at the princess's words.

"I don't mind if you call him by name, Princess. I'm sure he wouldn't mind it, either." Stan smiled, hoping he'd be there to hear it.

She didn't answer right away. "The Wizard hates him," she said softly. "I-I don't think Kyle is in _danger_ , but the Wizard hates him."

"The feeling's mutual, Princess. The War isn't so far in the past for my lord."

Princess Kenny grew quiet with thoughtfulness. They didn't speak again until they'd reached the door she gestured to as the store room.

"You must be quiet, though," she said, her whisper dropping even further. "Down this hall is one of the guards' quarters. A single peep and they could swarm."

"Noted," Stan said. He turned the knob and opened the door painfully slowly, and it was nearly soundless. The princess put a hand over her heart and sighed in relief.

The store room was exactly what one might picture, a square room about the size of Kyle's quarters, filled with framed canvases carefully stacked. While the princess chose which pieces she wanted to take upstairs, Stan took each of her selections and stacked them by the door for easy access. When she'd picked out forty or so paintings, Princess Kenny decided it was time to go back.

Stacked together, Stan could carry four paintings, and the princess insisted she could, too, but he stopped her. "You need to be able to keep lookout," he said.

"This will take too many trips," she said, pursing her lips. He handed her two paintings so she could carry some without affecting her visibility.

Stan carried the canvases out one by one and leaned them against the wall while the princess stood in the doorway and watched. Once six paintings were out of storage, Stan rolled back his shoulders. "All right," he said, and he and the princess approached the stack, ready to take their shares. "Let's do this."

The words had barely left Stan's mouth when an arm hooked around his neck, and the cold bite of steel pressed against his throat. A knife.

"What are you doing with the princess?" a voice growled in his ear.


	11. Chapter 11

The person who'd put Stan out of commission in a silent second might've been a shadowy unknown if it weren't for the moonlight trickling in through the windows, illuminating the forearm hooked around his neck and holding the knife. Even after only a few days, Kenny would recognize those markings anywhere.

"Tweek," she said with relief. Then, "Your Majesty," just in case. The Barbarian king's eyes glittered in the dark, flickering up to her though his stance didn't relax.

"Tweek," Stan repeated, voice cracking with alarm. "What are you doing?"

"Answer my question," Tweek said. Kenny thought she caught the faintest hint of a tremor in his hold, but Stan still couldn't break free. "What are you doing alone with the princess?"

"He's my guard, your majesty," Kenny said.

Steely green eyes held her gaze. "Where is Craig?"

Kenny was so delighted that Tweek knew Craig by name, confirming a whole slew of gossip he'd been denying her this week, that she almost forgot to answer. Stan's grunt when Tweek's grip tightened brought her back to reality. "Upstairs in the gallery with Kyle. We're replacing the art on display."

"Since when are you so loyal to the crown?" Stan muttered. "Thought you Barbarians were neutral territory."

"Neutral unless we suspect foul play. The four of you are replacing the Wizard's vulgar propaganda, I assume," Tweek said. At last he released Stan, who darted out of his reach and to Kenny's side. She grimaced.

"So you've seen it. Wait." She brushed her hair back over her shoulders so that her face was unobstructed. "How did you know about it?"

"The Wizard was kind enough to offer me a tour earlier." The distaste in Tweek's voice was softer than the open loathing in Kyle's. Sort of like Craig's, now that Kenny thought of it. She wished she could just come out and ask what the deal was with them. "I assume he's sending some sort of message to Kyle. We all know that anti-Elf propaganda isn't you, Princess, don't worry."

Straightening her shoulders, Kenny swallowed. "I'm glad that no one thinks I would perpetuate such things. But I can't hide behind ignorance. I'm still the princess, and soon-to-be queen. That's why we're replacing the Wizard's choices with art selections I have made."

"Want to help us carry them up?" Stan asked. Before Tweek could reply, Stan grinned. " _Craig's_ up there, you know."

Kenny could have kissed him. A good man, a proper guard, and wheedling out that sweet, sweet gossip. It was the first time she'd seen the Barbarian king thrown off-guard, color rising to his cheeks.

"...I'll help you," he said.

Tweek could carry six paintings, but Stan stayed with his four. When he caught Kenny eyeing him, he said, "Hey, I'm just going to end up dropping one and ruining everything."

"So you admit our company is stronger than you are," Kenny teased. They padded along the hallway towards the staircase. "If Tweek betrays us, you'll be less than useless."

"Will not. I should've known it was Tweek, only the Barbarian king could sneak up on me like that. But just because he's stronger doesn't mean this guard couldn't stop him. I'd raise the alarm for your safety, Princess."

"Craig would kill Kyle if you did that." They were so far into hypotheticals that it was ludicrous to discuss, but Kenny poked and prodded anyway.

"A sacrifice my lord would be more than willing to make for your safety, I think."

"Most definitely," Tweek droned from behind them. Kenny looked over her shoulder, surprised that he'd been listening. "Don't worry, your whispers don't carry too far." With a crooked grin he added, "We Barbarians just hear better than the rest of you. Kind of have to in my neck of the woods."

"Your neck of the woods is all of the woods," Stan pointed out. Tweek shrugged modestly.

When they reached the gallery, Tweek set down his paintings by the door. "I'll go back for more," he said simply, and then he was gone in a flash. Kenny hadn't realized how quick he was, though she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Before she could ask if he wanted to see Craig, because the abrupt abandonment didn't impress her, Stan bumped her elbow.

"I'll go with him once we bring these in," he said. "You and Kyle can stay here with Craig."

When they stepped inside the gallery, Craig was sitting on one of the sofas in the center of the room while Kyle was taking down the last of the Wizard's display. 

"You already got all of it down?" Stan asked.

"Craig, please tell me you helped," Kenny added.

"I helped," Craig said the way he said whatever it was Kenny wanted to hear. She huffed a sigh and put down her pictures so she could put her hands on her hips in his general direction.

"How did the two of you get twelve paintings up here so quickly?" Kyle asked, coming over to look at them. He smiled at Kenny's choices, the summery flowers and visions of ships out to sea.

"The Barbarian king helped us," Kenny said, fighting to keep a straight face when Craig's attention snapped more dutifully to her. "He went to get more."

"I'll go help him," Stan said, backing up. With a twinkle in his eye, he added, "Unless you'd like to go, Craig."

"I'll stay with the princess," Craig said a little too quickly, turning around. Dead giveaway that he was embarrassed; in all the time she'd known him, which was Kenny's whole life, Craig's only defense when he blushed was to turn around and face the wall. Many a time in their childhood had involved Kenny hopping up and down behind him teasing Feldspar in a sing-song voice while he stood in the corner with his back to her. Craig's poker face got better as they got older, though. It had been too long since Kenny saw him like this.

Stan trotted out of the gallery, and Craig turned around, having composed himself. Locking eyes with Kenny, he tilted his head towards Kyle, the very slightest movement that only someone used to Craig would pick up on.

"Why don't you two start putting up the new artwork? I'll keep guard while Stan and...his majesty bring up the other paintings. Then we can destroy the old."

Craig's proposal was sound, and when Kenny turned and saw Kyle watching her in the dark, a thrill ran through her. She'd been so caught up in the task of smuggling art that she'd forgotten this was a secret meeting just for them. While Craig, eternally the finest guard no matter how much Kenny liked Stan, stood dutifully by the door, Kenny took one of the paintings and trotted off to the nearest wall, Kyle following.

"Princess." His voice disappeared into the threads of her hair he was so close, and Kenny repressed a shiver. "I'm glad that you could meet me tonight."

"Of course, your majesty." She held out the painting in front of her and hung it on the hooks already in place on the wall. Adjusting it, she stepped back to make sure it was even. Even in her periphery vision, she could see that Kyle's attention was fully committed to her, so she turned her head. For a moment, she thought she saw embarrassment at having been caught flicker across his face, but the dark gallery and forbidden hour must have emboldened him, because he didn't look away. "I can't believe you took everything down in that short period."

"I was motivated to accomplish the task."

What more needed to be said? Kenny smiled.

"So, your letter claimed you had millions of things to say to me," she teased. "You may speak at your leisure, I am listening carefully." Gesturing to the painting, she raised her eyebrows at him, and he admired her handiwork.

"It's beautiful," he said.

"I agree." They spent a few more moments before the painting, a grassy hillside covered in wildflowers, the sun peeking out over the crest. Then Kenny went to retrieve another painting to hang beside it.

Another stack of paintings had been added to the pile, and Tweek stood near Craig, though Stan was nowhere in sight. Tweek and Craig appeared to be having a low conversation, but it came to an abrupt halt when Kenny approached.

"Thank you for your help," she said again to Tweek. When he bowed, there was clearly no formality in the gesture. Kenny couldn't wait to get Craig alone to tease him about his wild man.

Then again, feeling Kyle step up to her side, Kenny supposed there was plenty of time to talk to Craig later. She and Kyle each took a painting from the stack and returned to the far wall.

Almost out of earshot, Kenny heard Tweek whisper, "Come with me."

"Nope," Craig said in the same monotone he would have used on the princess. Kenny resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It would be perfectly fine for Stan to stand guard if Craig wanted to wander off with Tweek, so long as they didn't get caught. After seeing Tweek put Stan out of commission in an instant, though, Kenny suspected catching the Barbarian king was next to impossible.

At the wall again, Kyle set down his painting and watched Kenny position hers on the hooks. "Well, your majesty?" she prodded. "Aren't you going to shower me with your innermost thoughts and secrets?" She batted her eyes for emphasis.

"You're amazing, Princess." Leaning against the wall, Kyle crossed his arms and shook his head. "When we first met, I thought you might be too naive about the world."

"Oh, I'm quite sure that I am." Kenny stepped back to see if the painting hung straight: a watercolor rendition of peach blossoms. "I've lived inside these palace walls my whole life. The Wizard kept me here for my safety."

"Your safety? Is your kingdom so dangerous?"

"I don't know," she confessed. Kyle profferred his floral painting, camellias. "The Wizard wanted me safe from your kingdom, not my own."

"Mine!" Outrage spiked in Kyle's voice, but when Kenny started, he assumed an apologetic look. "Well, after what I took down from these walls in the last hour, I suppose I'm not surprised."

"I'm replacing false images with real ones," Kenny said, more than sure that Kyle knew she wasn't just talking about paintings. When the third was hung on the wall, she reached out her freed hands to cup the Elf king's face, stray curls of red soft against her fingers. "Kyle."

Fury ebbed away from his face, his lashes fluttering, and Kenny privately found it charming that he was just like any other man she'd met this week when it came to a little affection. Drawing her hands back, Kenny turned to the paintings. Again the stack had increased, but Craig stood alone. They took more pictures to the further corner of the wall.

"Tell me more," Kenny said, watching as Kyle put up the next painting of waves crashing over a rock.

"About what?"

"About you."

"Me?" She could hear the smile in his voice. "What do you want to know?"

As they hung pictures of oceans Kenny had never sailed and mountains she'd never climbed, Kyle told her stories about his childhood. Growing up with Stan and getting into trouble swiping treats from the kitchen and ripping fine new pants before serious events. One tale of Kyle getting mud all over a tunic and hurriedly having to switch clothes with Stan in a pantry had Kenny giggling so badly she couldn't look at Kyle for a full five minutes. When she did look up again, he grinned bashfully.

"It wasn't that funny," he said in a voice that said he was pleased with her reaction anyway. 

When the last of the paintings arrived, Stan, Craig, and Tweek clustered at the door. "What do you want us to do with the others?" Stan asked, scowling down at the pieces Kyle had removed from the walls.

"I want them to go away," Kenny said. "Craig?"

"How was your room this evening, Princess?" he asked, not looking up from the stack of paintings. Their guests stirred.

"It was fine." She knew Craig well enough to know he was going somewhere with this.

"A comfortable temperature? Spring isn't fully upon us yet."

"Yes, it— _oh_!" Her eyes lit up. "The fireplaces."

"If we take these to your quarters, I'll tell Wendy to use them before the firewood stock."

"How long will that take?" Kenny's quarters might have been those of the princess, but it really didn't take that much to keep it warm enough for her.

"I can take some," Tweek said. "I think my compatriots are homesick, and ill at ease in a castle. It will do them well to have a roaring fire."

"Just don't send the whole castle up in flames, huh, Tweek?" Stan asked. Tweek flashed him that same crooked smile that made Kenny wonder if Stan were speaking from experience.

"Stan, would you take some to our quarters as well?"

"Nope," Craig answered for him. At Kyle's pursed lips, he added, "Look, your majesty, if the worst should happen and we get caught burning the Wizard's garbage, it would be best if there were no evidence in your quarters. We really don't need an international incident."

The remark was just Craig being Craig, Kenny knew, but Kyle's face blanched. "Of course," he mumbled.

Maybe to divert attention from the clearly shaken Elf king, or maybe for a more ulterior motive, Tweek lightly asked, "You're not worried what happens if _I'm_ caught burning the Wizard's garbage?"

"Nope," Craig said, turning to the wall as if observing Kenny and Kyle's handiwork thus far. Kenny pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "Stan, you stand guard while we move these." Stan nodded.

Stan was a much less subtle guard than Craig. Every time Kenny and Kyle returned to the pile for more paintings to hang up, she caught him peeking at them with a little smile, visibly straining to eavesdrop. Craig wasn't nearly so easy to read, and Kenny bet he was more successful at overhearing, too.

Their conversation turned to books and art, subjects Kenny to which Kenny could contribute. Hoping that his responses weren't out of politeness, she told him about the artists and media used for each of the paintings they hung. Discussing books was a little harder, as Kenny mostly read materials the Wizard provided for her curriculum, along with the occasional volume of romantic adventure Wendy smuggled into her room. The latter part she withheld, though Kyle seemed more interested in her lessons anyway. Based on his increasingly knit brows, Kenny suspected her information was at best abridged, and felt her voice faltering with every topic.

"You've been given an outline of history and trade, but not much functional information," he said carefully.

"The Wizard says our political system is based more on a trusted group of people. I'll be in charge of a council that works on each sphere of government more closely."

Kyle considered this. "Not that I doubt the system, but I think it would be a good idea for you to have more information yourself."

It was a kind way to put it, because Kenny knew what he was saying was that she was unfit to rule as she was. The fact that she couldn't dispute it increased the sting. What did she know of politics? What the Wizard taught her, and snippets of opinions from Craig, Clyde, and Wendy. At least now she had allies in Kyle and Tweek. Though her hands twitched to reach up and tug at her scarf, a nervous habit that always cropped up at the worst times, Kenny restrained herself.

Perhaps sensing her unease, Kyle moved on to discussing the books in his palace's library. Kyle was extraordinarily well-read, and Kenny asked where he found the time.

"Aren't you running a country?" she teased.

Another shadow crossed his face before he tempered his expression into neutrality. "I love reading, so I have to make time for it."

So seriousness, having been invited into their conversation, had decided not to leave. Kenny swallowed. "Kyle," she whispered. He met her eyes. "How did your parents die?"

"...Illness," he said. Though it clearly wasn't an easy subject for him to discuss, she sensed some willingness to tell her. Some trust, truth. "About a year ago."

"A...wait." Now Kenny's fingers moved of their own accord, up to her plaits to tug them taut. "I thought your parents died in the war like mine did."

"No. It was right after my eighteenth birthday. We all got sick." Kyle turned back to face their latest painting, a sunny sky filled with birds. "We thought it might have been...food poisoning or something. But it kept up. I don't even remember a lot of it, I was in such a fever. The world was such a fog. That was when I met Tweek, actually...it was before he was king, though. Our healers were at such a loss they turned to the Barbarians for help. I think. I think I would have died, otherwise."

Kenny swallowed, questions piling up in her mouth. She forced them away.

"When I woke up, my family was gone. My parents, and my younger brother. I was the heir, so they prioritized my recovery." Kyle covered his face with one hand, a pensive position clearly meant to shield whatever lack of composition crossed his face.

"What was it?" Kenny whispered after a moment. "The illness?"

"We still don't know. A sudden crash of catatonia, hallucinations, dehydration. Physical, mental. And fire. I remember feeling like I was on fire, somewhere in the dark. No medic could find a physical cause."

"It sounds like..." Kenny hesitated, but when Kyle dropped his hand and looked over at her, she knew her foolish mouth had the right answer. "Dark magic."

"That's what I think, too," he said quietly.

"I don't understand," Kenny said. "The Wizard said they passed away long ago in the battle. Why would he lie about that? I would've learned the truth as soon as I ascended the throne." 

Kyle held her gaze for a long time. Behind them, Tweek and Craig seemed to be finished transporting the Wizard's pieces to their quarters. Suddenly this meeting wasn't feeling so romantic and exciting. Kenny swayed on her feet, and Kyle was at her side in an instant, a hand under her elbow, the other burning against her waist.

"Are you all right?"

"He doesn't mean for me to ascend at all," she whispered. Kyle steered her towards the sofas, and in her peripheral vision, Kenny could see Craig abandoning his company altogether and bounding towards them. Stan and Tweek wouldn't be far behind. "He's going to marry me off and once there's a king, he'll get rid of me. I'm going to get sick." Fire in the dark. The words were tumbling out faster and less coherent than Kenny's mind was racing. Air was coming too quickly, her breathing too frenetic. On either side of her, easing her into the sofa, Kyle and Craig looked down at her with frightened eyes. Two people she knew hid fear at all costs.

"Princess, you've gotta breathe," Craig said, kneeling at her side, both of his hands squeezing one of hers. He took an exaggerated breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth, and Kenny mimicked him. Kyle sat beside her on the sofa, and she could see Stan standing behind him with wide, watery eyes. Hovering behind Craig, Tweek seemed to tremble terribly. She couldn't look at any of them and focused on Craig, her best friend, who knew she'd never panicked like this before and was still guiding her as calmly as possible. For a few moments, all she did was breathe in and out to slow her heart, pounding in her ears, rushing like the ocean she'd never heard.

"He won't touch you," Kyle said, his arm still around her waist, his other hand's fingers laced with hers. "You're safe, Kenny, I promise."

"He won't have any use for me," she said, trying to breathe around the flood of frightened thoughts drowning her. "Once there's a king, he'll do away with me. I'll become some sort of martyr, some catalyst." Her eyes flew to Kyle, then to Tweek, for reassurance. The grim set of their mouths confirmed her fears.

"The Wizard won't do anything to you, period," Kyle said, "but he especially wouldn't do anything to hurt you when you're first married."

"Why?" Kenny asked, trying to focus on the Elf king's thumb tracing the curve of her palm.

If anything, the shadows on Kyle's face deepened. "Heirs. You're safe until you've borne a child. That way there's a royal lineage and the Wizard won't be usurped by some distant relative."

Before she could stop it, a sob rose to Kenny's lips. She'd be dead the minute she stepped out of the public eye, wedding dress and all. "I can't—" she managed, untangling her hands from Kyle's and Craig's to cover her face. "I-I  _can't_...!"

"Can't what?" Alarm flashed across Kyle's face and, abandoning all sense of propriety, he pulled her into his arms, Kenny's chin nestling into the crook of his neck. Kenny trembled in his embrace, willing herself to feign some sort of control, to gather herself. She couldn't. It was too soon to tell him, and yet so long to have withheld the truth. "Princess, it's all right, you'll be fine...!"

Still covering her mouth, wishing Craig would do as he did when they were alone and stick out his sleeve for her to wipe her tears and nose on, Kenny drew back. "I have to tell you something," she whispered. Kyle nodded slowly, and she swallowed down a sad sound. "Don't..." She didn't know how to finish the sentence. _Don't be mad? Don't hate me? Don't leave before we've even had a chance to tell our love story?_

Taking a long, deep breath, Kenny lowered her hands from her mouth to her throat, and began to unwind her scarf.


	12. Chapter 12

Princess Kenny's hands trembled as she unwound layer after layer of glittering silk from around her neck. Kyle swallowed hard. He knew she'd been hiding something under there all this time. Scars, or burns, or something Kyle's racing mind couldn't even concoct.

None of them said a word as she reached her last round, and then the scarf fluttered into a heap in her lap.

At first, Kyle wasn't sure what she'd been hiding. No gashes marred her throat, no scars or marks in sight. In fact, the skin she'd concealed seemed as smooth and unblemished as the skin he'd seen. Kyle could feel heat rising to his face at the very thought when his eyes fell on what Kenny had hidden. There, on her throat, a pronounced Adam's apple.

Behind him, Stan started to react, but he stifled his "Ah..." before anything else could come out. Craig looked on with resignation, but of course he would already know. Tweek didn't seem surprised either.

"It's not a big deal, Princess," Tweek said before Kyle could even think to open his mouth. Kenny was busy staring at her scarf in her lap. She twined her hands in the fabric. "I figured it out the night we met." When her head shot up in alarm, Tweek held his hands up in front of him. "I doubt anyone else knows, Princess. Really, you shouldn't be worried. Barbarians are more perceptive than other beings."

Normally this would've been the first strike in a battle of wits between the two kings that would go on well into the night, but Tweek didn't mean it as a teasing remark, and Kyle was uninterested in verbal sparring. The princess was still looking at Tweek, or rather, she was quite obviously not looking at Kyle. Craig was, though, his dark eyes boring into the Elf king's profile, and in his peripheral vision, Kyle was sure Tweek was looking at him, too.

Kenny lifted her hand again, fingers fluttering to her throat to shield it from sight, then dropping instead to the plait of golden hair hanging over her shoulder.

"Was this your choice?" Kyle asked softly. "Or the Wizard's?"

"The Wizard's?" Stan echoed.

"To raise the future king as a maiden," Tweek clarified. "Kill her on her wedding night before her husband suspects." Craig's eyes cut to him sharply, but Kyle couldn't trace any anger in his expression, only the cold warning the princess's guard always seemed to carry.

With a slow breath, she met Kyle's stare. "Mine," she said. "I'm sure that Tweek is right...in terms of why the Wizard allowed it." She exchanged a look with Craig before turning back to Kyle. "But I felt in my heart that I was a princess."

All the bravery and elegance of a true ruler. He had thought so even in their very first meeting, once she'd overcome enticing girlishness to stare him down and meet his challenge. Kyle had no doubt that this last week had been one of the most harrowing of her life. This moment in particular was clearly one she'd been dreading.

He reached out and slipped his fingers under the golden plait, running his hand along the underside of braided sunshine, feeling the softness, the warmth. "Then you are," he said.

* * *

 

Though the hour was early, Eric had long since been awake. Well before that lazy bum the Sun was up to work, Eric had been pacing the Wizard King's quarters in long, fuming strides.

He had prepared everything perfectly. Picked out a nice, distant relative in Duke Stotch's son. Put on this whole over-the-top ball with the princess as its crowned jewel. And what does the little traitor do? Sneak around with a filthy, conniving Elf. Not just that, but their _king_. The filthiest and most conniving of all.

Eric was practically a father to the princess. Not that he considered Kenny his daughter—for starters, Kenny wasn't even a _girl—_ but Kenny should see him as a patriarch after all he had done for this kingdom. Hadn't he always said not to be tricked by pretty faces, never to show weakness, and above all else never to trust an Elf? 

One might be able to become king without a brain—look at Kyle, who inherited the throne when his immune system proved marginally more effective than those of his brethren—but becoming a _Wizard_ King required smarts. Eric wasn't an idiot. He knew that during the gap in the princess's reception in which he couldn't find Kenny, the disappearance could be chalked up to sneaking around with the Elf. It was no coincidence that the two of them happened to be struck with a desire to visit the art gallery at the same time. The little traitor.

Kenny wasn't supposed to be making eyes at some inhuman abomination. Kenny was supposed to get all gooey and stupid as usual over the romance and excitement, be charmed with Butters because he was as impossibly likable as he was moronic, and be wed and crowned queen. Then, before Butters had a chance to realize that his bride could never give him doubly-blond, doubly-stupid babies, Kenny would fulfill the noble purpose Eric had planned: martyrdom.

The tragedy of the young princess dying before being able to enjoy a happy marriage and rule would send the people of this kingdom into rage. They would demand answers: who did this? And the Wizard King would answer their questions as he always did, guide them, show them the way and where to direct their anger: the princess's killer, a filthy liar with know-it-all eyes and hair red as hellfire.

Eric paused in his pacing. Perhaps not all was lost. If the princess wanted to abandon her people and get involved with an Elf, let it be. Wed them, then reveal the princess's dirty little secret, see how the Elf liked Kenny then. Well, Eric had given his warning: never trust an Elf.

Or, better yet, don't reveal it. Let the fool princess and the Elf make eyes at each other, make vows. Join their kingdoms. Then, while enjoying their wedding feast on royal red tablecloths, the princess begins to choke. Face turning purple, eyes rolling back, fingers clawing throat. Poisoned! Eric checks himself, leans close and whispers the last words Kenny will ever hear: "I told you."

Let Kenny die thinking the Elf husband Eric didn't give his blessing for slipped poison into the wine. Let Kyle think everyone he loved would die, that he was a curse who brought all who came close to a tragic end. Let him destroy himself. Then the Wizard King, the only beacon of hope to the people in these tragic times, would reclaim his throne, and gain the Elf kingdom as well.

Yes. Eric could see it now. The truest victory over that traitor Kenny and all of those soulless Elves. The plan needed some work, but it had tremendous potential. Excellent.

* * *

 

Behind the door, Clyde could hear the princess stirring before the sun was up. He knocked on the door to her chambers and, when she called, left his post to let himself in.

Kenny sat on the edge of her bed in a white nightgown and robe, brushing out her hair in long, golden strips. "'Morning, Clyde," she sang before going back to humming.

"'Morning, Princess. Did you get any sleep last night?" Craig had smuggled her back into her quarters at nearly three in the morning. While Kenny went right off to bed, Clyde turned to Craig for details and got little more than confirmation that they'd fixed the paintings, that Kyle knew, and that Stan and Craig had guarded the door to the gallery for a little while so they could talk privately. Then Craig was off to bed for Clyde's night shift, leaving Clyde alone for hours bursting with questions.

"An hour or two." She looked fresh as a daisy, though, with bright eyes and silky hair. "Clyde, it was wonderful."

Clyde sat on the floor at the foot of her bed and hung on Kenny's every word while she told him about their adventure replacing the pictures and what happened when she and Kyle were alone.

"He was so kind, Clyde." Her fingers trailed down the scarf she'd already put in place around her neck, the omnipresent shield. "He said it couldn't ever change his feelings." Ducking her head, the princess smiled in a manner Clyde could only describe as _shy_ , and he poked her knee.

"Aaaand?" he prodded. "I know there's more, Princess, come on."

With a twinkling laugh, Kenny looked up. "He told me I would be the most beautiful queen."

"Like, in general, or as in _his_ queen? Either way, sounds like a proposal to me!" Clyde grinned and crossed his arms along the edge of her mattress, resting his chin on top of his overlapping wrists. Kenny covered her mouth with her hands, but her smile was too huge to hide, all teeth and dimples, and her eyes were all lit up like Clyde had never seen.

"Oh, and!" she said, reaching out to swat Clyde's shoulder. "Craig has been denying us gossip! The way he and the Barbarian king were acting around one another, it was so obvious!"

Craig's head shot up. "I knew it!"

"They're on a first-name basis," Kenny reported, "and Tweek asked Craig to come with him when they were moving the art."

"Did he go?"

"He said no and stayed with me, the idiot!"

"Maybe he's playing hard to get?" Clyde scrunched his nose up at the thought. Personally, if he were in a position where a good-looking royal wanted to get him alone, Clyde didn't see the benefit to being coy.

"With a Barbarian?" Judging by the roll of her eyes, the princess had a hard time believing it, too. "Anyway! I'm going to call Wendy to help me get ready, and then I want to go down to the drawing room where there's lots of sun so I can write my letter."

"Your letter?"

"Well, Kyle wrote me last night, so it's my turn to write him." With a dreamy little sigh, she added, "Can you believe this time tomorrow I'll be getting ready to be crowned Queen?"

"We're all believers, Princess," he said. "Very happy believers."

Clyde resumed his post at the door when Wendy arrived. He could make out the sound of the girls' voices and giggles, even the occasional shriek, and suspected Wendy was getting more juicy details than he did. Probably because Wendy was good at asking weirdly specific-yet-vauge questions that Clyde wouldn't think of, like what Kyle's voice sounded like when he said something, or which way his body was facing. Maybe Clyde should've asked that.

When he heard Kenny knock on the other side of the door, Clyde let her out. She was in a simple pink gown today, her hair loosely gathered into curls at the nape of her neck, and Clyde made sure to tell her how nice she looked. In her hands were parchment and writing instruments.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"We have to wait for Craig so he can guard your room while you're away." Clyde got stuck with that assignment a lot. He didn't mind that much because he knew Craig was Kenny's best friend, but it was nice to be the on-duty guard every once in a while.

Craig arrived presently, right on time, and assumed the guard's position with a yawn. Kenny trotted down the stairs with Clyde at her side.

"I've always wondered," Kenny said, "who guards my quarters when both of you attend me? Times like the other night when we all went down to the hall."

"Queensguard-in-training," Clyde said. "Sometimes they join us on night watch. Token's the only one we leave unsupervised. He's the best one."

"So, he'll take over when you two get sick of me?"

"We'd never get sick of you, Princess!" The very thought of breaking up their little family horrified Clyde. Though, he supposed, that would all be changing tomorrow anyway. He nearly lost his pace at the thought, which, of course, did not escape his princess's attention.

"Clyde? You know I'm teasing, don't you?"

"I do," he said. "It's not that. I was just thinking...things are going to be different starting tomorrow, aren't they?"

They had arrived at the doors to the drawing room. Clyde grabbed the handle to open it for her, and Kenny placed a hand over his.

"Things will change a little," she admitted. At his sidelong glance, she amended, "Things will change a lot. But for better, not for worse. You and Craig and Wendy won't be any less precious to me tomorrow than you have been my whole life."

Being easy for the princess to read made talking easier, Clyde supposed, because it meant he didn't have to say the words that were hard to find. But her slicing right through his mess of feelings to the heart of it and assuaging all fears in one swoop had tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "I know, Princess."

He imagined the four of them, with Token and maybe Stan, sitting in the Queen's quarters and gossipping about Kyle. He wondered if Kyle would want Craig and Clyde to gossip about Kenny with him. They wouldn't tell him anything she didn't want him to know.

Clyde opened the door to the drawing room, gave the room a quick sweep, and escorted Kenny inside. She picked out a cushioned seat at a writing desk by the window and fluffed her skirts around her as she sat. Clyde stood a proper distance from her while she situated herself. He always liked to watch Kenny in moments of seriousness like this, her bright eyes turning astute, her posture sure. Clyde saw the future Queen in her always, but in moments like this, he knew no one else would ever have reason to doubt her either.

It was a quiet morning, all soft sunlight and chirping birds. Clyde could've easily fallen asleep to those early springtime sounds if his duty wasn't of maximum importance. Instead he focused on the princess, chewing her bottom lip and carefully dipping her quill into ink before writing. Her handwriting was naturally atrocious, he knew, and she had agonized growing up trying to perfect a delicate, flowy hand. That concentration came through now, each letter taking a few seconds as she visibly struggled for poise. With a smile, Clyde waited until she'd retracted the quill from the page and there was no risk of dripping ink when he whispered, "You're doing fine."

Kenny looked up in surprise, but then her whole face split with a smile. Sometimes Clyde could read her, too.

Unfortunately, the care he'd taken not to upset her ink was all for naught when a knock at the drawing room door startled her, sending ink bleeding all over her calligraphy. While Clyde hurried to clean the mess, throwing his own uniformed arms over the dripping threat to keep it away from Kenny's dress, the princess called for the person knocking to come in.

"Good mornin', Princess," a voice chirped. Marquis Stotch bubbled into the room looking so delighted to see Kenny that Clyde couldn't be annoyed with him for making her spill her ink. It appeared that Kenny felt the same way, because she swept up her dress as she got to her feet to return his greeting. "How're you feelin'?"

"Quite well, thank you. And you, Butters?"

He shyly echoed her reply. "I hope I'm not botherin' you. The Wizard thought I should escort you today, if you wanted to tour the gardens or the gallery."

To keep an eye on her, rather. Even Clyde could figure that one out. The Wizard must've been getting wise to all the coincidental time Kenny was spending with King Kyle. Marquis Stotch—Butters, rather—rocked on his feet, clearly not suspecting a thing.

"Thank you, that's quite kind of you," Kenny said, her voice painfully polite. "Why don't I meet you after lunch in the garden? This morning I am..." Butters' eyes dropped to Clyde's cleaning up the ink spill behind Kenny. "Writing," the princess finished, sounding sufficiently embarrassed. Nobody played the cute card as well as the princess, Clyde thought with more than a little pride.

Butters lit up. "Well, gee, Princess, that's wonderful! What are you writin'?"

"...Poetry," Kenny said. The earnest sweetness in this poor suitor must've been throwing her as badly as it was Clyde. The idea of the Wizard manipulating Butters in anyway was downright cruel.

Cocking his head to one side, Butters studied her for a moment, his eyes crinkling in the corners with his smile. "Princess, you're blushin'."

"Oh, well, it's a little hobby of mine. Kind of a secret!"

"Princess, if you don't mind my askin'...ah...you're not writin' poetry, are you?" At Kenny's faltering voice, Butters chuckled. "Is it a love letter?" A pause, too long to be just between sentences, not quite long enough that Kenny's lack of reply was awkward. "For King Kyle?"

At that, Kenny started, and Clyde couldn't help looking up in alarm. The serenity on Butters' face was without threat, though, and his shoulders hunched humbly. "Aw, gee, Princess, I saw the way you looked at him the other night when he asked you to dance. An' the way he looked at  _me_ when I danced with you more times than he did." Raising a hand to his mouth, Butters still failed to cover a little laugh. "You're a real-live fairy tale, aren't'cha, Princess?"

"Butters..." Kenny spread her arms, her voice on the cusp of an apology. The marquis held up his hand, though, and shook his head.

"Don't ever be sorry for fallin' in love, Princess. Well, sure, I think the Wizard thought we could have somethin' special, but friendship is special, too, right?"

Clyde finished cleaning the mess, watching Kenny carefully for her reaction. Her face had gone all misty. For a split second, Clyde pictured Butters as part of their little family gossiping. He should probably let Kyle be in on the gossip in his imagination, too, but it was hard to allow that when even in his mind the whole group of them were teasing Kenny redder than an apple over him.

"Right," Kenny said softly. "Absolutely. But, Butters...the Wizard clearly thinks you're the suitor best, well, suited for me."

"Don't you worry a minute, Princess. My loyalty's to you." Butters finally crossed the drawing room floor and took to a respectful knee in front of Kenny. "I think you've been nicer to me in these last few days than the Wizard ever has. I know I'm not the smartest fella, but I try my hardest. You may have to be patient with me, but I'll always be your ally."

When Kenny bit her lip, her lips wobbling between happiness and tears, Clyde decided Butters was officially part of the family.


	13. Chapter 13

Tweek hated being in a palace. He was glad his visit was coming to an end. There was something terribly claustrophobic about the stone walls, the glass windows that teased the outside world yet kept him confined. Any longer and he'd be going stir-crazy. Well, even more than he already was. Many of the guests spent time in their luxury quarters. Though Tweek knew he and his compatriots had been given one of the finest suites the palace had to offer, he hardly spent any time in it.

There were other places he preferred to spend his time.

Not for the first time, Tweek's wandering throughout the palace had brought him into the guards' wing. Kyle was always accusing him of looking to poach impressive guards, though Tweek would never even think of it. He appreciated skill and power, but for friends like Kyle and Kenny, Tweek wanted those fine warriors in place protecting them. Besides that, his compatriots were unarguably the best of any nation. What reason had Tweek to poach?

As if on cue, Craig rounded the corner at the other end of the corridor. He acted as if he didn't notice Tweek, but the Barbarian king knew better. Craig noticed everything.

Though they hadn't met that night, Tweek first spied Craig at the guests' reception when he first arrived at the palace. His guard had gone up immediately when he saw the glint of Craig's dagger disappear under a table, suspecting an ambush. When his eyes fell upon the small form at Craig's hip, Princess Kenny in disguise, it had been all Tweek could do not to laugh. For the intense aura surrounding him, this palace guard was truly quite soft-hearted.

That knowledge benefited Tweek when he officially met the princess after that. Craig glared him down over her shoulder, his mouth set in a firm line. Tweek told himself it was protectiveness and did all he could to make it clear that he was the princess's ally. When Kyle whisked her away, the sly dog, Tweek spied her other guard, Clyde, at the balcony door while Craig kept on the Wizard, distracting him. Following Craig's lead, Tweek shadowed the Wizard and bothered him with foolish questions and errands. With the Wizard off in the opposite direction of Princess Kenny, Tweek sidled up to the guard to pledge friendship to the rising queen.

"You're already quite fond of her," Craig had said, turning away from Tweek. "Smitten?"

"That would be King Kyle." The observation brought a smirk to the guard's face. "Though I consider myself anexcellentjudgeofcharacter." It wasn't until he was outside of his home, where quick, high-pitched speech blended perfectly into the sounds of the forest and the pace of the hunt, that Tweek remembered other kingdoms spoke less frenetically. "Believe me, no one is more pleased than I to see Princess Kenny ascend the throne. Exceptperhapsthethrone...mm...who will no longer have to die a slow death under the weight of the Wizard."

The brazen treason brought a true smile blooming to Craig's face, his eyes catching Tweek's, and the Barbarian king could have staggered from the bolt of electricity that coursed through him. He'd thought the guard's eyes black, but they were the same navy as the midnight sky back home in the forest. Twinkling like the stars and galaxies Tweek could see from the treetops, even.

Craig was the only thing in this palace that made Tweek relax. Even his own compatriots were no use, as restless as he was encased in these walls. But Craig's mind was as cunning as his skills were sharp, and the heavens in his eyes were home. Meeting after meeting in the dead of night, the strange hours of the morning when Craig was off-duty, they met in nooks and crannies that the ancient palace allowed. Craig knew the secrets of the palace like Tweek knew the secrets of the forest, and, hidden, they whispered their own secrets to each other. Every rendezvous since their first, Tweek murmured in Craig's ear the thought that had struck him like lightning at the sight of that smile: "Come with me."

It wasn't poaching a warrior. It was finding a piece of himself he hadn't known was missing and hanging onto it for dear life. Guilt hovered in Tweek's mind from time to time, because Craig would make an excellent queensguard and nothing was more obvious than the lifelong affection he and Princess Kenny shared. But the thought of returning to the forest after the coronation without Craig was an arrow of perfect marksmanship, striking guilt dead.

"Come with me," he begged, something a king should never do.

"Nope," Craig always said, turning away.

Tweek had thought to be angry once, that Craig would draw him into an alcove, the world around them disappearing beyond their embrace, only to reject him. But then, Tweek supposed, Craig was as faithful to his princess as Stan was to Kyle, as his compatriots were to Tweek and vice versa. To meet like this with someone from another kingdom, especially another kingdom's _king_ , was hardly the act of a model citizen, let alone a servant of the palace. Any anger Tweek considered faded at the thought that Craig, the princess's most devoted guard, was risking so much to see him. That ignoring or rejecting what existed between them was just as difficult for Craig as it was for him.

This thought rang in Tweek's mind as Craig passed him in the corridor with little more than a nod of his head, the most formality a Barbarian applied at any time. Turning on the heel of his boot, Tweek fell in step with him.

"Where are you going?"

"Delivering something to the princess," Craig answered without slowing pace. A letter from Kyle, Tweek assumed, remembering the postal service Stan and Craig had set up. Tweek frowned at his speed; they were alone in the corridor. Picking up his own pace a few steps, Tweek stepped in front of Craig, blocking his path and forcing him to stop.

"Right this minute?" Barbarian culture relied on speed. Speed in travel, speed in battle, speed in dialogue. Tweek wanted time to stop right now for the two of them alone.

Craig didn't reply, holding Tweek's stare. Then he gave another curt nod and tried to side-step Tweek. Annoyance flared in the Barbarian king's chest, and he blocked Craig's path again, throwing up his arms to steer Craig back against the wall. Still no one else entered the corridor.

"The Coronation is today," Tweek reminded him needlessly. Probably the reason Craig had to hurry the princess's letter to her, but Tweek pushed that logic down. "We leave at nightfall," he said, his voice softer.

Any professionalism Craig was holding on to flickered at this. For a split second, his eyebrows knitted, and Tweek felt his stomach plummet, recognizing in Craig's expression that the Barbarians' plans didn't have him figuring out how much time he needed to get ready. His midnight eyes clearly said _We'll never see each other again._

Still caging Craig in, Tweek buried his nose in the crook of the guard's neck, barely brushing his lips against Craig's pulse. "Come with me," he said again.

"No," Craig said, voice unsure. Tweek clung to the rare wavering.

"Come with me," he said, pressing his lips harder to the pulse speeding up. He kissed his way up Craig's jaw to his ear, to his face.

"I can't," Craig said, firmness coming back to his tone.

"We'll come back and visit the princess as much as possible," Tweek promised recklessly. "And your friends here. We're all allies."

"Stop it, your majesty." The nasally voice Tweek's ears were always straining for dropped, exhausted.  _Your majesty_. A formal term Craig had abandoned long ago. Tweek pulled back from one last kiss on Craig's cheek to meet his eyes. "I can't leave Kenny."

"You can! She would under—"

"Let me rephrase that," Craig said. He tilted his chin down and swallowed. "I _won't_ leave Kenny."

They held each other's gazes for a long time. Tweek let out a long, slow breath. He should say something, but what? Protesting would do him no good now; Craig was more than clear that he chose his princess over Tweek. An unpleasant feeling twisted in Tweek's stomach, and he realized it was jealousy. How foolish. How needless of him to be jealous of a guard who was faithful to his princess. How completely stupid to expect Craig to choose someone he'd known for less than two weeks over a friend he'd cherished his whole life.

His stomach twisted even worse as realization set in that their time was coming to an end. Princess Kenny would be Queen Kenny in two short hours. Whatever Kyle had written in his letter, there was precious little time for Kenny to read it before preparations began.

Tweek pushed that kindness down, let the arrow pierce his guilt. She was keeping Craig for a lifetime. He could keep her waiting for her letter just a little longer.

"...I leave at nightfall, then," he whispered, everything left unsaid roaring in his ears. When he leaned closer again, it was to press his lips to Craig's. Everything he didn't say, everything he couldn't, everything there were no words for, Tweek knew Craig understood. Because he kissed back like he never would again, and all at once the claustrophobia of the palace bore down on Tweek from all sides, squeezing, constricting, crushing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gratuitous Creek chapter? Gratuitous Creek chapter. I promise this is the end! One more chap to go!!


	14. Chapter 14

"Wow, King Kyle must be writing you a novel," Clyde said, the words coming out crooked around the pins he held in his teeth. To relieve the effort, he reached up and took one, setting it in place at the hemline of Kenny's new gown.

The princess put her hands against the full skirt, fluffing at the blue organza and sending the fabric fluttering out of Clyde's hands. When he grunted and looked up, apology flashed across her face.

"Sorry," she said. "I just. None of his responses so far have taken this long."

It was true. Craig and Stan had been ferrying letters back and forth between Kenny and the Elf King all day and night. Their whole social circle had to adjust to accommodate. First of all, following a pinky promise of eternal friendship, Butters had stayed in the drawing room to help Kenny write her letter. The marquis' handwriting was infinitely neater and nicer than Kenny's, and he smiled down at the parchment while Kenny dictated her letter. Clyde would be lying if he said he hadn't teared up a little listening to Kenny narrate a letter about how much it meant that Kyle accepted her for who she was and treated her as his equal.

Butters had looked up once the letter was finished. "Well, gee, Princess, that's awful nice," he said. "You _should_ be with somebody who loves you for who you are. Complimentin' one another and changin' one another are two very different things."

For all the twangs in his accent, all the easy words and simple ideas, Clyde thought Butters was very smart.

With Clyde attentive at the door, Kenny had tugged Butters away from the window and unwound her scarf. Butters didn't bat an eye.

"I'm glad King Kyle loves you no matter what, Princess," he'd said. "Because if he didn't, well, then he wouldn't deserve you."

Very, very smart. Clyde couldn't help agreeing out loud. "Right?" he said from the door. Butters laughed.

Of course Butters was in his own quarters preparing for the ceremony now, but he'd spent much of yesterday helping Kenny write her letters, even well into the night. With Craig working overtime on mailman duty and Clyde practically sleeping standing up, they'd had to bring in backup.

Token fit right in. From the time he'd started cycling into the rotation of guard duty, Craig and Clyde had told him about Kenny, and he didn't mind it, either. Clyde was glad that nobody gave Kenny a hard time. He'd finally have an excuse to draw his blade if they did.

Of course, he knew he'd never have that problem with Token. Kenny adored him immediately because he was even taller than Craig and had an infectious laugh, and the feeling was mutual. Right now, though he was standing at the door, Token kept leaning into the princess's quarters to tell Kenny how pretty she looked, or to alert the group that Craig was back with a new letter.

When a letter arrived, all preparation for the coronation stopped. Kenny would drop down onto her bed and first read the letter silently to herself, glowing over their contents so much that her three guards and Wendy kept exchanging grins over her head. Then Kenny would read some of the highlights.

"Well, you can tell her letters are from a king," Token had said after three or four had arrived. "They're quite eloquent."

"They...they sure are," Clyde said, impressed that Token could take all of these secrets in stride.

Glancing over at Clyde, Token added, "He uses beautiful language."

"He does," Clyde said a little too loudly. "He's very _eloquent_."

Truth be told, some of the language in Kyle's letters was totally over Clyde's head. And just about all of it was language he certainly didn't hear on a daily basis, words like "poise" and "commend" and "incandescent." Actually, that last one wasn't a word Clyde had ever heard before, nor had Kenny. Token gently translated it as "exquisite," which had Kenny all but hugging the letter to her chest.

It had been over an hour since Craig left with Kenny's most recent letter. He and Stan couldn't have slept, the way they were going back and forth, though Clyde supposed it was almost over. Kenny would be Queen in a little over an hour, and based on the increasingly abridged selections Kenny was reading, King Kyle's letters were getting more personal and romantic. Clyde was dying to know what the princess was keeping to herself in their contents. But of course he respected her privacy. But he was so curious.

Clyde had just managed to pin one more adjustment to the hem of Kenny's ballgown when she fidgeted again, tugging blue waves from his fingers.

"Princess, the ceremony is in just a little over an hour. I've got to finish this!"

At the back of the enormous skirt, Wendy was stitching away where Clyde had already pinned. "He's right, Kenny, you've got to quit moving," she said.

"Sorry," she apologized again, clearly distracted. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Princess," Token said from the door. "Today is a big day. It's no wonder you're nervous." Kenny gulped.

Clyde finished pinning the skirt just in time for Wendy to stitch her way from the back to the front, and he stepped away to let her work. Unlike the reception when they'd stitched together a last-minute princess dress, this time the gown Kenny received was already princess-y. In fact, Clyde wondered if the gold dress from before were more queenly, this blue skirt and jeweled top looking more fit for a ball than a coronation. Kenny liked it, though, so he didn't say anything.

"You don't think anyone caught Craig in the halls?" Kenny asked, chewing on her bottom lip. Clyde cleared his throat and pointed to her mouth, and she stopped; it wasn't the first time she'd bitten today and earlier there had been a few drops of blood. "Or Stan?"

"I'm sure everyone is fine, Princess," Token soothed from across the room. Unlike Clyde, who adopted every worry Kenny shared, Token's personality was a salve that could heal all wounds. "We're getting closer to the ceremony, though, so King Kyle may be delayed in replying because he too must ready himself."

"Right. You're right, of course." Kenny heaved a sigh. Wendy stood up, hands on her hips, and evaluated her work. The hem was perfect, naturally.

"All right, Princess," Wendy said. "Hair and makeup time."

Clyde joined Token at the door, each taking turns looking towards the staircase for Craig and peeking into the room to watch Wendy's progress winding Kenny's tresses into an elegant nest of braids and painting her face.

Wendy's work was careful as ever, and she took her time, but Craig still hadn't returned when she was finished. Now Clyde could feel sweat on the back of his neck. Maybe Kenny was right; maybe Craig _had_ been caught. There was no way King Kyle was taking this long to write a letter, or that Stan and Craig were taking this long to deliver it. Something was wrong.

The watery look of the princess's eyes suggested she feared the same. Kenny blinked a lot, her eyelashes like hummingbird's wings beneath her brows, and Clyde knew that only Wendy's makeup artistry was keeping the princess from crying.

While Wendy clipped Kenny's pearl necklace around her throat, Clyde turned to Token. "I'm going to go find Craig," he said. "He's been gone too long. Something's not right."

"I think that's a good idea," Token said, matching Clyde's low voice and glancing over at Kenny. She was putting on long white gloves and didn't appear to have overheard them.

"Okay. How long until we have to go?"

"About twenty minutes."

"Right. I'll be back in fifteen, then, I guess." Clyde had just slipped through the door when he heard something from the bottom of the staircase that spiraled up into the princess's quarters. Boots on the stairs.

* * *

 

First thing in the morning before Kenny's coronation, the Wizard sent for Butters. A timid knock on his door shortly thereafter signaled the marquis' arrival.

"Good mornin', your majesty," he chirped in that irritating way that made him impossible to hate. "How're you feelin'?"

"Fine, Butters. Come in."

"O-kay." Butters closed the door behind himself and took a seat in one of the guest chairs being set up before the throne. Eric shifted in his seat, enjoying the throne's cushion for the last time today before Kenny's coronation. The seat beneath him groaned with the movement. Damn thing was so old.

"I wish we could've talked yesterday when it wasn't so busy, Butters, but we weren't able to find you anywhere." Eric put his fingers to his temples and massaged them. He wasn't entirely sure why people did this, because it didn't much alleviate his stress, but it was a universally recognizable signal for _I'm tired._

"Aw, gee, your majesty, I'm sorry. I spent yesterday with the princess."

Now _that_ piqued Eric's curiosity. He dropped his hands and met Butters' earnest look. "You were with Kenny? All day?"

"Yes, sir." Butters paused, pressing his lips together. Eric wondered if he were thinking about whether 'sir' was a respectful enough term for the king. Actually, Eric himself wasn't sure if it was or not. He decided not to think about it so much. "Well, Princess Kenny was writin' poetry in the drawin' room, and I happened upon her, and we ended up writin' some poems together."

It sounded like the queer kind of activity those two would enjoy together. Eric regretted removing his fingers from his temples. "Poetry?" he repeated. Something like anxiety crossed Butters' face, but Eric blinked and the expression had turned into simple confusion, a standard look on the marquis' face.

"Yes, your majesty. About love and adventure, and all the things that make us brave."

Eric heaved a loud sigh. "Okay, Butters, let's get to the point, shall we?"

"Yes, your majesty."

For the last twenty-four hours, Eric's mind had traced every possible outcome of Kenny's wedding. As much as he reveled in the fantasy of driving Kyle to offing himself, the Wizard had to be realistic. He knew the Elf was too tenacious to play according to his rules. Kyle wouldn't think he was cursed if Kenny fell dead at their wedding dinner; Kyle would know right away who was responsible, and as the newlywed king, he would outrank Eric and be able to order him locked in the dungeon while his quarters and possessions were searched. No matter how he tried to hide the ingredients of his potion, traces would be left behind. Kyle would have him executed, and then the filthy Elf would've won and taken Eric's kingdom for his spoils.

Worst case scenario.

Eric had thought long and hard about other ways he might wield Kenny's death against Kyle or use it to rally the people against the Elves, but he had to admit that there were too many ways his plans could go wrong. The last thing he wanted to do was deliver power and authority to Kyle. Like the bossy little boy playing at being king needed any more glory beyond what he already didn't deserve.

"Butters," Eric said. "I want to discuss with you the matter of Kenny's betrothal."

"Betro...Princess Kenny's gettin' married?" Butters lit up.

Giving in to temptation, Eric massaged his temples again. No improvement. "Think it through, Butters."

That was what the Wizard King had done, after all. He'd thought it through, and as flawed as any plan against Kyle was at this stage, the initial plan of marrying her off to simple, un-kingly Butters still held up. This was the card the Wizard was going to play.

"Your majesty, are you, ah, proposin' that I propose to Princess Kenny?" At his word play, Butters seemed pleased with himself, his smile bringing a little flush of pink to his face. Then, again, his expression seemed to falter into worry, but only for a moment. One time might have been Eric's mind playing tricks on him, but twice was definitely cause to call him on it.

"Butters, is something wrong? You seem nervous."

"Nervous?" Butters chuckled, his voice wracked with guilt. "Naw, your majesty, I-I suppose it's just the pressure gettin' to me. I mean, Princess Kenny's a real special lady, an' bein' her husband's a big responsibility."

"Because that would make you king?" Eric supplied. Abject horror plagued Butters' face, as if he were realizing for the first time what marrying the princess entailed. The Wizard sighed. "Butters, listen. If you marry Kenny and become King, you don't have to worry about the big, scary responsibilities. I'm not going anywhere. I've been overseeing the kingdom until Kenny was mature enough to inherit the throne, but I won't disappear just because the heir has reached legal age to rule. I'll just be going back to my original role as royal vizier."

Understanding lit Butters' eyes, pale irises like sea glass. He didn't seem chipper at the news, but a little confidence returned to his posture. "So, you'd be there to help Kenny rule her country."

"I'd be there to help _you_ run the country. After all, Butters, the king is in charge. The queen is just his wife." Not that Kenny could fulfill any wifely duties. Granted, Butters was probably a slouch in the husband duties anyway.

Butters pursed his lips. "Queens aren't just wives, your majesty. Otherwise, they'd just be called 'the king's wife.' But they get a title, Queen, an' they rule alongside the King as his equal."

"...All right, Butters, I really am busy." He wasn't, but, damn, Butters picked stupid battles to fight. He'd blindly go along with the political stuff, at least, but this would be an exhausting marriage if he kept nitpicking over how important Kenny was. Eric might have to put his removal plan in order even earlier than he thought. "What do you say?"

"Gosh, I don't know," Butters said slowly, like he _did_ know and just wasn't saying. "It's a life-changin' decision. I need a little time."

"A little time is fine," Eric said impatiently. "Think about it during the coronation ceremony. I'd like an answer once we move to the reception. I was hoping to set the marriage into motion quickly."

Butters quirked his head. "Why?"

Maybe this plan was flawed after all. Eric certainly never pegged Butters for one to question authority. "So that I would only have to explain the workings of our government once, to both Kenny and the King, instead of having to train Kenny for a brief rule before a King comes into the picture."

"Oh. That does make sense." Butters sounded surprised, the little scab. "I still need to think about it," he said.

"Fine. Get out. I need to oversee arrangements for the coronation. It's in less than an hour, you know."

"I know. I'll head out then, your majesty." Butters headed for the door, walking his odd, hoppy little step. It wasn't regal at all. Much too harmless. Eric sighed. "Oh, and your majesty?" The Wizard King looked up again to find Butters hovering at the door, looking over his shoulder. "If I accept and I do become Princess Kenny's husband, the King an' all, you shouldn't be tellin' me to 'get out.' It's disrespectful. In fact, I don't think you should say it to me now. Just 'cause you're the King doesn't mean you can talk to people like that."

The seriousness in his expression would've knocked Eric off his feet if he'd been standing. Then Butters smiled and headed out the door.

* * *

 

Clyde's poker face was the worst in the whole world, Kenny thought. It was one of her favorite things about him. As soon as she heard his cry from the door, Kenny knew Craig was back.

He shouldered his way between Clyde and Token and strode up to Kenny, sitting on her bed, with his arm outstretched, letter in hand. Craig's eyes stayed locked on the folded paper in his hand, and worry sparked in Kenny's chest. Much as he pretended not to care, Craig cared a lot. And he never hid from her.

Grabbing the letter with one hand, Kenny clamped the other hand around Craig's wrist. "Craig?" she asked. He didn't say anything, and his eyes stayed low. Kenny's gaze flickered to Wendy, all the signal her lady-in-waiting needed to gather up her makeup brushes and leave, pushing Clyde and Token out into the hallway with her. Token shut the door behind them.

Once it was just the two of them, Kenny tugged on Craig's wrist, and he sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. Easing Kyle's letter out of his hand, Kenny set the paper aside and turned her full attention to Craig.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah." His voice cracked, and Kenny's heart leapt into her throat. Both of her hands clasped around one of his, and the corner of Craig's mouth crooked upwards for a split second, his eyes turning fondly to their pile of hands. "I'm sorry I took so long to deliver this letter. I lost track of time."

Kenny thought she could guess the reason, but Craig's shaken demeanor gave her more than a little pause. "Lost track of time?" she echoed gently.

Craig's thumb hooked around two of her fingers and squeezed, as if he were the one comforting her. "I ran into Tweek," he said. "The Barbarians are planning to leave as soon as your coronation is over, so. I was just saying goodbye."

All the times Kenny had wanted to tease and torment Craig over the Barbarian King suddenly turned from funny memories to shame in her mind. The words were hollow, as if Craig were going through the motions, pretending like what he was saying wasn't bothering him. When it clearly, clearly was.

Relinquishing Craig's hand, Kenny readjusted her position on the bed, pulling her legs up under herself to kneel so that she was a little taller. She wrapped her arms around Craig's shoulders, one hand coming up to stroke his hair, and pulled his head into the crook of her neck. Rocking him back and forth, Kenny knew that Craig could have easily resisted her, but he let her guide him and swayed in time with her movement.

"We've all been giving you a hard time," she said softly, "but I never really pulled you aside to talk to you. Here you've been listening to me go on and on about Kyle ever since he arrived, like a good friend." Kenny closed her eyes. "Craig, I'm so sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for." Craig wasn't one to use paragraphs when a sentence was necessary. But Kenny took comfort in the fact that his voice sounded less like it was made of glass.

"We've got time," she said. "I don't have to leave for another fifteen minutes." Loosening her hold on him, Kenny leaned back. Craig was already looking up and ready for eye contact. "Tell me what I need to know."

"You've only got fifteen minutes." Craig quirked an eyebrow at her. "We can talk later. Read your letter."

Kyle's letter. Kenny had nearly forgotten about it, and, reminded of its existence now, her fingers itched to open it. She balled her hands into fists to quench that urge.

"I can read it later," she said. "Kyle isn't leaving as soon as my coronation is over. After everything you've done for me, Craig? This week? This lifetime? Now it's time I was there for you for a change."

* * *

Kyle had long since finished dressing for the coronation, but he had been in motion ever since, pacing around his quarters and fidgeting with his sleeves, his crown. Stan was exhausted just watching him. "Kyle?"

"How much longer do we have?" Kyle asked, his voice distant. Nothing signaled his distraction more than that question; Kyle was a stickler for punctuality and propriety.

"The ceremony begins in about half an hour," Stan said, "but Princess Kenny will have to be down there before then. She might be there now."

"Right. Of course." Kyle paced across his room yet again to stand in front of his window and stare out to the grounds below. Stan sighed. He knew he only had a fraction of the king's attention.

"And she would have to get ready before that, too," he reminded gently for the umpteenth time. Truth be told, the speed at which Craig returned mail was impressive, matched only perhaps by the speed at which Kyle was penning responses. Stan read over his shoulder, biting his cheek to keep from smiling when Kyle hunched over his paper to block his more romantic confessions from view. After more than a year of watching his best friend wander great, empty hallways alone, always made of steel, always unsmiling, there was no end to Stan's relief to see Kyle fall hard and fast for someone so full of life and made him smile.

Which gave even more weight to Kyle's visibly anxiety now. Granted, from the peek Stan had sneaked at this letter, Kyle really hadn't pulled any punches. It was obvious to Stan after their first meeting that Kyle would fall for the princess, and it was glaringly obvious now that he was in love. Though he hadn't written the words themselves in his letters, he might as well have for how clear it was. Stan suspected Kyle didn't want to be the first to go so far, or maybe that he didn't want to confess on paper when he could do it in person. Either way, Kyle was taking a risk he hadn't before, and every minute that passed without reply was a minute more of worry that rejection was the princess's answer.

It wasn't, Stan knew, but Kyle overthought everything. In fact, he—

A knock at the door startled both of them, Kyle whirling around from the window, Stan bolting to his feet from where he sat on one of the parlor chairs. Without needing to look for his lord's approval, Stan went to the door, a cautious hand on the sword hilt at his hip.

"Who is it?" Stan asked, voice amicable.

"Uh, it's, uh, well, it's Marquis Stotch!"

Stan exchanged a baffled look with Kyle, whose eyebrows arched venomously at the voice. If he'd had more time to think about it, Stan might've laughed; Kyle had been chilly towards the Wizard's pick for Princess Kenny ever since they'd first danced together. He gave a curt nod, though, and Stan opened the door.

There indeed stood the marquis, robed in blue and gold finery, pale as a ghost. Regardless of Kyle's weird jealousy over the guy, Stan's heart leaped with compassion at the young noble's quivering bottom lip, and he was quick to put an arm around Marquis Stotch's waist and guide him into their quarters. With the door shut and locked behind them, Stan led Marquis Stotch over to a parlor chair. Still their guest waited for Kyle's nod of approval before taking his seat.

"Are you all right?" Stan asked, kneeling at his side. "You don't look well, Marquis Stotch."

"Aw, I'm okay." The shaky smile he managed said otherwise. "And call me Butters, please."

"Butters," Kyle said, his voice controlled, "what are you doing here?"

Butters sighed with his whole body, a complete exhale that crumpled his frame into an even smaller mass in his seat. "Forgive me for intrudin', your majesty, an' for callin' on you so late in the day, with the coronation comin' up an' all."

The dropped _g_ s must have been driving Kyle crazy, but Stan was relieved to see some compassion flicker in his friend's face. "It's fine. Stan's right, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I shouldn't be here, but I had to tell you, your majesty." Butters brought a shaking hand to his head, brushing back a lock of flaxen hair. "The Wizard called me to his quarters first thing this mornin'."

Kyle and Stan both stiffened. This setup for Butters' presence didn't bode well. "Yes?" Kyle prompted.

"He was talkin' about Princess Kenny gettin' married. About how he wants her to marry right away so he can, um, teach her and her husband to rule at the same time. But he was talkin' real funny about it, like the new King'll be in charge, an' Princess Kenny won't really be rulin' at all."

Kyle and Stan had no more than a breath to exchange a dark look before Butters continued.

"An' he was talkin' about how he'd be there as the Royal Vizier to help the new King along, right? But, I don't know, fellas, I got a funny feelin' about it." Butters swayed in his seat and swallowed. "'Cause the Wizard said he wants _me_ to marry Princess Kenny an' be King."

None of this was new information, only confirmation to a long-held fear. Even so, Stan sucked in a deep breath at Butters' pale face. A few paces away, standing at full height, Kyle crossed his arms and hid his fists in his elbows. "Why does that make you feel so...'funny'?"

Butters blinked. "Well, gee, your majesty. Princess Kenny's a real special lady, but I couldn't marry her when she's in love with you."

Kyle actually staggered, his posture jerking with the weight of Butters' innocent observation. Stan fought to keep a straight face. No amusement crossed Butters' expression, his eyes solemn as he took in Kyle's reaction.

"An' all the Wizard's funny talk...I know I'm not the smartest fella around. I can't be King! If I marry Princess Kenny, the Wizard is talkin' like she won't have any power as Queen, an' I won't know what to do on the throne. It'll be like...like the Wizard's not givin' up bein' King at all, just usin' me as a puppet." Butters started trembling, and Stan got up and rushed to bring him a glass of water. The glass shook in Butters' small hands. "Princess Kenny's my friend. I don't want anything bad to happen to her."

"Nothing bad is going to happen to the princess. That I can promise you," Kyle said.

"What did you say?" Stan asked. "When the Wizard asked you to be her betrothed?" In spite of the much more serious political problem at hand, Stan could see from Kyle's tensing on the word _betrothed_ that this still rankled him enormously.

"I said I had to think about it," Butters said. "He said I had the coronation to consider it an' then he needed an answer. I wasn't sure if I should come to you first or to Kenny, but I-I-I don't know what to do."

"You did the right thing," Stan said quickly.

"You did," Kyle agreed. "Thank you for coming to us, Butters."

"I haven't seen Kenny," Butters said, "but I don't think I have time before the coronation. But you'll help keep her safe, won't'cha?"

"Yes," Kyle said. "Listen, the quarters at the opposite end of this hallway, towards the western wing, are where the Barbarians are lodging. Go tell their king what you told me."

"Th-the Barbarians?" Butters squeaked.

"They're not bad people," Kyle said. "They look kind of intimidating, but that's what living in the darkest part of the woods does. Really, you won't find stronger allies or more faithful friends. The Barbarian King is a very good friend of mine. And of Princess Kenny's, now, too. Tell him what's going on, and that I sent you his way."

"If his men won't let you through, tell them it's about Craig," Stan added. Butters frowned.

"Isn't that lyin'?"

"The princess's guard is affected by any threat to her safety," Stan said, feeling Kyle's stare heavily upon him. Butters tilted his head, but he didn't question Stan's logic any further. There was some light of understanding in his pale eyes that made Stan suspect he knew the real reason bringing up Craig would get Tweek's attention.

"Okay," Butters said. They waited a few more moments for him to sip his water and stop trembling, then sent him down the hall.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Kyle rounded on Stan. "The Barbarians will let him in."

"I think so, too."

"Why should he mention Craig?" Kyle asked, frowning. "I mean, I suppose they do talk to one another quite a bit, but wouldn't saying it's about Princess Kenny be more apt?"

Stan held his gaze for a long time. "Oh, Kyle. You really aren't paying attention to anything but Princess Kenny, are you?"

* * *

 

Kenny folded her legs up under herself, which Craig warned her would wrinkle her skirt, but she waved him off. Then she sat attentively while he went back to the beginning.

"I don't know what you want to hear," Craig started.

"Whatever you want to tell me," she answered.

There wasn't enough time to tell her all that he wanted to, but also, there was so much time and no words. He started slowly, mumbling that he had met Tweek alone every day since her reception. If the frequency of their meetings surprised Kenny, she didn't show it. Craig went on to tell her that mostly they talked, about training or what their homelands were like. What they found interesting and what they didn't. Discovering their mutual fascination with astronomy.

Kenny smiled especially widely at that; she knew better than anyone how long Craig could lie on his back and stare up at the stars, though Craig knew she'd never really fully understood his preoccupation with it. The magnitude of existence and his humble place in the universe; the promise of other worlds and galaxies; the very fathoms of space. Kenny didn't like grand concepts like that. Life and existence and the universe almost made her anxious, so Craig tried not to get too into it when he talked about astronomy.

But Tweek did understand it. Had sat beside him under an overhang of climbing vines and flowers deep in the maze of the palace gardens, and stared up at the sky through the trellises. 

"You have hardly any stars here," Tweek had murmured, lying back. Moonlight crested over his stomach, his shoulders. Craig laid back, too, looking up at the stars. Their view was obstructed here, but Craig's favorite stargazing spots were all highly visible to anyone else who might be wandering the castle at this hour. When he made this argument aloud, Tweek looked over, light eyes brighter than ever somehow in the darkness. "There's too much light here," he said. "Your lanterns, your chandeliers. And too much noise." He breathed in and exhaled, a slow, purposeful movement. "Where I live, nighttime is so dark you can't see your hand in front of your face. But when you look up, billions and billions of stars shine down on you." Craig tried to imagine it. "The woods are so quiet, our home so humble, that stargazing is truly stargazing. Your whole self stares up at the heavens, and the heavens stare back." Tweek's lashes fluttered. "Everything disappears except the truth."

It was such an obscure thing to say, something that on some tongues would've been pretentious, on others confused. But Tweek knew exactly what he was saying, and Craig knew exactly what he meant. They held each other's gazes for a long time in comfortable silence, and then the Barbarian King rolled onto his side, leaned over, and gave Craig his first kiss.

This part of the story he omitted when talking to Kenny, but he suspected she knew without his saying. Just like he knew she knew that he hadn't expected someone who was physically his type to be emotionally his type, too. That the Barbarian King scared him in a way that had nothing to do with tattoos or knives.

The words were coming more easily now, but there was no more time. So Craig just let Kenny hold his hand.

"I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention to you," Kenny said.

"You pay plenty of attention to me," Craig said. "...But thanks."

Just as a smile flickered to Kenny's face, a knock sounded at the door. It opened just enough for Clyde to pop his head into the room.

"Princess," he said, his voice as low as if they were off to a funeral. "It's time to go."


	15. Chapter 15

Butters was pretty sure he didn't breathe during the whole ceremony.

After telling King Kyle what had transpired between himself and the Wizard, Butters dutifully went to the Barbarian quarters. At the sight of him in robes that matched the Wizard's blue, the Barbarian men formed a wall at the door, staring down at him from impossible heights. His mind had gone all but blank, and he squeaked out what Stan suggested, that he had to tell the King something about Craig. Immediately, the sea of men parted, and their King was at the door, grabbing for Butters and dragging him in.

"What happened to Craig?" Tweek asked, his grip on Butters' shoulders made of iron. Butters wasn't sure exactly how Barbarian society worked, but he was fairly certain Tweek wasn't a stickler for titles or formality the way their kingdom was. That didn't make the intensity roaring in his light eyes any less scary.

Somehow Butters had found his voice, and as he explained his fears for Princess Kenny and King Kyle's advice, Tweek calmed down. "Of course we will prioritize her safety," he said when Butters was finished. "But we are leaving after her ceremony is complete." Tweek turned away from him then, and Butters marveled at how sad his eyes became.

"Do you have to leave right away?" he asked gently. "I'm sure Princess Kenny would like it if you stayed a little longer."

"We've been gone so long," Tweek said. Butters supposed they were fish out of water here, the Barbarian culture so in tune with nature and sparseness.

"Well, it's nice that you could come and meet the princess," Butters continued, careful not to push too much. There was something in Tweek's expression that made Butters want to stay with him a little longer. "I think she'll be sorry to see you go." When the Barbarian King said nothing, Butters added, "You... _really_ have to leave?"

"Yes."

"...But not forever, right?"

Tweek frowned at him. "Not forever, no."

There was so much more to be said, so much more Butters wanted to share. That it wasn't every day someone felt a sadness like the one reflecting in Tweek's eyes, and that sadness like that wasn't all bad, because it came from a beautiful place. Butters had his suspicions, but now he was positive he knew why Stan said to bring up Craig. What a lonely, lovely bunch the princess and her attendants were. If he could, Butters would give them all big hugs.

But now it was time for the coronation. Butters had just enough time to scamper off to his own quarters and finish getting ready before he made his way down to the hall. In the same room where he'd first met with the princess and spun her around on the dance floor, Butters now took his seat to watch as Princess Kenny made her way down the aisle between rows upon rows of chairs, to where the Wizard awaited. The Wizard made a grand show of asking the princess if she were prepared to take on all duties as the royal heir, to rule justly and serve her people.

"I will," Princess Kenny confirmed with each challenge, her voice not so much as wavering, her head always held up.

In her bright blue gown, she was somewhere between fairy princess and mermaid lagoon, which Butters made a mental note to tell her later. He bet she'd like that comparison. Still, he looked around for King Kyle, a flame of red and gold, and Tweek, branded and armed with empty sheaths for knives confiscated at the door. Both of them, with their attendants seated at their sides, never wavered in their attention fixated on the princess.

At the end of her oaths, Princess Kenny stood and turned to face the crowd before her. Butters tried to imagine what it would be like to be a new adult and in charge of a kingdom so grand. He nearly swayed on his feet at the thought. The fact that the princess could stand in front of them all with such composition amazed him. The Wizard brought out a golden crown, the delicacy of which was a bit undermined by the overwhelming amount of jewel decorations, and placed it on her head with a flourish.

"I present to you all the heir to our kingdom and our new ruler," the Wizard said, smile not quite meeting his eyes. "Queen Kenny!"

The entire room stood to applaud. Colors spun before Butters' eyes even as he leapt to his feet. Even with Craig, Clyde, and Token positioned as a triangle of protection by the queen's side, and even with two kings and their men watching over, Butters knew in his heart that it was too early to consider the ceremony a success.

The Wizard held out his hand and escorted the new queen to the throne. Butters' heart pounded in his ears while she sat, the crazy fear that the throne was going to open up and swallow her alive in his mind until she fluffed her skirt out around her and folded her hands in her lap. Applause filled the whole hall for many minutes more, and Butters could see in the tightness of the Wizard's smile that he didn't care for the enthusiasm the new ruler was receiving. Finally the Wizard had to step forward, and Butters saw the queensguard bolt into position immediately by the queen's side.

This was the second half of her coronation, during which each noble in attendance would come forward to declare continued alliance with her kingdom under its new ruler. As a noble in her own jurisdiction, Butters was among the first to approach.

"Marquis Leopold Stotch," Clyde announced him. Butters blushed at the use of his full name and formal title. The queen's throne was on a small platform, and Butters knelt at the foot of the steps leading up to it.

"Your majesty," he said fondly. When he looked up from his bow, Queen Kenny was beaming at him. "Happy birthday," he blurted out. She laughed, delighted.

"Thank you," she said. The audience twittered behind him, and Butters caught sight of a disapproving look from the Wizard.

"You always have an ally in me, your majesty," Butters promised. "And a faithful friend even longer than that."

"Likewise, Marquis Stotch," she said. Queen Kenny wrinkled her nose for a fraction of a second and smiled in a way that said _Butters_ even when formality dictated _Marquis Stotch_. "I'm grateful for your friendship and your kindness and offer mine in return gladly."

Every noble in her kingdom stepped forward, and then came acknowledgements from the neighboring kingdoms. Butters hadn't had a chance to meet with all of them and craned his neck to see the ones he didn't know. One young noble from overseas blessed the queen with an ancient saying of encouragement in his lands, "Live long and prosper." Another stammered his way through a song, and though a ripple of amusement went through the crowd, Queen Kenny visibly enjoyed the performance to the point where Craig appeared to be tapping out a beat against the back of her chair as if he were playing tambourine.

The queensguard's playing along with musicality ceased abruptly when the next lord approached. Tweek strode up to the throne with speed fitting of the Barbarian leader and dropped to one knee in a jerky motion.

"Your majesty, the Barbarians have always declaredneutralityfromotherkingdoms," he said, voice sharp and quick. "We operate independently, but we do seek peacefulandrespectfulinteractions with fellow people. So long as you uphold the good grace and moral stature I know you to possess, youhaveacompatriotinme."

His statement made no talk of treaties or political entanglement, true to Barbarian nature, but his specific attention to the queen's character seemed to sit well with the whole hall. Queen Kenny nodded.

"Absolutely, I agree," she said. "I demand no changes or further action from the Barbarians and hope only to maintain our good relationship." Her expression betrayed a struggle, and Butters couldn't help glancing at Craig beside her. His expression had shifted totally to stone, except for his eyes, which carried the weight of a thousand years as he looked down at Tweek.

This was the point at which all previous nobles had taken their leave, but Tweek remained on one knee looking up at the throne. A few more seconds of silence passed, no one in the hall willing to interrupt the leader of the Barbarians the way they might have whispered or twittered at other lords. Finally, the Wizard himself coughed. Tweek turned a icy look to him, and the Wizard went very still. Even from a few rows back, Butters could see that he didn't know how to react in the face of the Barbarian King's defiant stare.

"Thank you, your majesty," Tweek continued, his attention returning to Queen Kenny, who was watching him with obvious interest. "I wish you all the best, good health and good fortune, and thehappinessyoudeserve."

Here was the only crack in an otherwise perfect picture. Butters suspected Tweek's eyes had not been on the queen for that last part, because her gaze, as well as Clyde's and Token's, all flickered to Craig at her side, who swallowed heavily. Though Clyde and Token's eyes only turned to Craig for a second, maybe not even long enough to _focus_ , Queen Kenny's expression betrayed too much. She was quick to cover up her reaction, putting a hand to her mouth and thanking Tweek in a voice thick with emotion. He stood, pivoted on his heel, and strode back to his seat, expressionless.

King Kyle was the last to approach. Butters could see the queen training her expression to neutrality, the Wizard's attention sharpening like a hawk's. As the Elf King sank to one knee before the queen, Stan faithfully at his side, a hush overcame the room. King Kyle bowed his head deeply and took a moment to look up again.

"My Queen," he said. Queen Kenny's fingers skittered on her armrest. A pause followed, almost too long, and Butters wished he could see King Kyle's face instead of his back. The Wizard's expression spoke volumes, though, his lips pressing into an impossibly thin line, a purplish-red shade creeping up his thick neck. Crack after crack appeared in the queen's composure as she looked down from her throne. Butters could feel the hush in the room shifting, the silence remaining but the reason behind it evolving from curiosity to perfect understanding. When King Kyle spoke again, it was to repeat himself, as if he were starting over. "My Queen," he said again, the two words composed of art and music and the universe.

Even from far away, Butters could see the queen's eyes glistening, their corners crinkling with her smile. Then softly, yet echoing in a hall so quiet one could hear a pin drop, she replied, "My King."

In a blink, the Elf King was on his feet and up the steps to the throne, then on his knees again at Queen Kenny's feet with her hands in his. An undeniable rustle ran through the crowd, murmurs picking up and escalating the moment the Wizard dove for the throne.

"What do you think you're doing?" he roared.

Butters couldn't even tell which of the royals he was addressing. Neither, it seemed, did they, but King Kyle straightened and wrapped his arms around the queen's waist. She looped her arms over his shoulders, and though they both still wore alarmed expressions at the outburst, their postures both relaxed once they embraced. The murmur in the hall grew to a dull roar.

"Get your hands off her!" the Wizard thundered, pointing at King Kyle. "How dare you put your hands on the queen in such a manner?"

The queen held on tighter, pulling him closer to her.

"And what do you think you're doing?" the Wizard continued. "Have you no shame? No propriety? Do you think this is how a queen acts, throwing herself into the arms of someone she doesn't know, in the wake of their _countries being at war_?"

"What are you not telling me?" Queen Kenny asked, her voice and gaze steady. Butters could see her squeezing her hands together behind Kyle's neck, like she was trying to keep them from shaking. "The war between us. I don't think you've been honest with me, Wizard."

He was no longer _your majesty_ , and evidence of this seemed to surprise no one more than the Wizard himself.

"I raised you, protected you, gave you everything you could possibly want, and you throw away our trust like this?" The Wizard took a step forward and in a flash, Craig was between him and the couple. It was the first time Butters had ever seen a sword drawn in anything other than guards going through drills to keep their skills as sharp as their blades. At the glint of steel, the Wizard drew himself up to his full height. "You _dare_ raise a sword to me?"

"You dare threaten the Queen?" Craig parried. His grip on the sword tightened.

"I threaten no one!" But the Wizard took a step back, eyes darting to the crowd, half on its feet. Butters searched the audience for Tweek and couldn't find him. "I weep that the honest upbringing I gave the queen has fallen to the wayside over an infatuation."

"It's not an infatuation," Queen Kenny said.

"I've never lied to her," King Kyle added, eyes flashing. "Not once."

"What are you implying, exactly?" The Wizard's voice had gone deathly quiet. From behind the couple, Stan stepped out to stand alongside Craig. In his hand was the sword Butters had seen him relinquish at the door. Where had it come from? A shadow of movement behind the throne's platform caught Butters' eye, but whatever the movement was disappeared. Had someone brought Stan his weapon? That question must have been in the Wizard's mind as well, because he bristled at the sight.

"I'm implying nothing," King Kyle said. "What I _am_ doing is accusing you, Wizard. Of instigating a war against the Elves based solely on your own prejudice. Of murdering my family and attempting to murder me. Of using the war between us as an excuse to whip up a frenzy of hatred for Elves, fear of us, to feed your own propaganda. Of taking the opportunity to lock the rightful heir away in a tower while you ruled a kingdom that didn't need or want you." Never wavering, he finished, "That ends today."

For a moment, the Wizard was speechless with fury. His whole face had gone the color of a rotten tomato. Butters' stomach seized at the sight, his eyes searching the hall again for Tweek, for another line of defense.

"How dare you?" he said finally. "You come into my castle in my kingdom, accuse me of serious crimes with no proof, and threaten me? Who do you think you are?"

"He's Kyle, the rightful heir and King of the Elves," Queen Kenny answered. "And he's come, welcomed, into _my_ castle in _my_ kingdom, accused you of crimes anyone who's known you for a minute knows you committed, and holds you accountable with the blessing and under the jurisdiction of the Queen."

The hall fell completely silent.

"I want him captured, detained, and watched like a hawk until a trial can be accommodated," she said.

"Yes, your majesty," Craig and Stan replied. Clyde and Token were on either side of the couple in a flash, both drawing their weapons to defend while Craig and Stan advanced. The Wizard shrieked and threw back his cape, drawing out what looked like a gnarled stick. King Kyle recoiled so violently that the queen and both of her defensive guards turned to him. Fury sliced into Stan's expression as well, and he raised his sword, his feet widening into a stance.

The Stick of Truth. Butters had heard legends and tales of the weapon, a deciding factor in the end of the war, but he'd always thought them mere folklore. He'd never suspected that there could be any truth behind its existence.

"What, you've all been scheming behind my back?" the Wizard howled. "Traitors! All of you! Is this how you treat your King?"

Craig lunged forward and slashed his sword, sending the Wizard leaping back and nearly losing his balance. "You're not the King," Craig said. The Wizard steadied himself, planting his feet on the ground, and thrust the Stick out, aiming for Craig. With the guard in his sights, the Wizard opened his mouth to reply.

Whatever words he was going to throw out died before they could be spoken. A flash of a shadow again, and then the Wizard went impossibly still, his eyes wide and wild. An arm was hooked around his neck, a dagger pressed dangerously to his throat. And behind him, a blaze of wildness.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Tweek said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an epilogue and then I promise I'm done!! You guys are so patient, thank you so much!!


	16. Chapter 16

Craig, Token, and Tweek all escorted the Wizard to the dungeon. He howled about betrayal and disrespect, but his tirade quickly spiraled into slurs against Kyle and Elves in general. Token scowled, and Tweek, who held the Wizard's hands behind his back, gave his arms a good pull that Craig wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of.

"And don't even get me started on that traitorous wh—"

Craig shoved him rougher than necessary into his cell.

A twenty-four-hour rotation of trusted guards took no more than a few minutes to assemble. It wasn't any surprise to Craig that the Wizard's former servants were happy to keep him behind bars, or that loyalty to Kenny was already running high.

It also wasn't any surprise that the whole time he was doing something significantly more important, Craig's attention kept wandering to Tweek. Who noticed, obviously, and would turn to look back, so Craig would look away, knowing he'd been caught but avoiding eye contact. The knowledge that the Barbarians were leaving in a few short hours, or maybe even sooner if they didn't stay for the reception, made Craig's chest ache, but the thought of leaving Kenny was impossible. Maybe they all had the same title, but Clyde and Token knew Craig was really her head guard. Her closest friend. And she was his. He couldn't abandon her now.

Craig was the first one out of the dungeon and back to the hall, where all of the guests were on their feet surrounding Kenny and Kyle. Some of the nobles who'd journeyed out for her coronation were in various stages of heartbreak; Craig passed more than one sniffling fellow and knew a better person might have called them tears of joy. Well, they could've been, at least tears of joy that the Wizard was out of commission. That trial would be one for the ages.

Kenny lit up when she saw him coming through the crowd, and Craig felt his shoulders relax. Clyde, Token, and Stan were hovering around the couple, and Butters had joined them as well, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet while congratulating Kyle, who looked like he'd bitten into something unexpectedly sour. The graceless pucker of the king's mouth almost brought a smile to Craig's face.

Stan's eyes shifted over from Craig to someone standing behind him. "Oh, there you are. Thank you for getting my sword to me. Not that I got a chance to use it."

"You never know," Tweek replied. "I might've needed backup." His voice suggested he didn't think so, but in an affectionate way. Stan made a show of rolling his eyes. "Princess," Tweek said, turning to Kenny. "Or Queen, now, rather. That'll takesomegettingusedto. We're going to head out so we can be back to the woods by nightfall."

The ache in Craig's chest made itself known again. So the Barbarians weren't staying for the reception. He should have known. Kenny's face fell.

"You can't stay?" she asked. "We're going to move the reception to the art gallery. And there's a dinner!"

"No, thank you." Tweek said. With one last bow, a staccato jerk from the waist, Tweek turned and disappeared into the crowd. Craig forced his eyes not to follow.

Clyde sidled up to him. "He didn't even say goodbye to you," he said indignantly. Craig snorted, simultaneously amused and touched by his friend's loyal input.

"We already said goodbye this morning," he replied, his voice little more than a murmur. When Clyde's head popped up to look at him, though, Craig could see in his wide brown eyes that he was putting together the pieces of the puzzle. Why Craig was late delivering Kenny's letter, and how serious this had become before Craig realized what was happening. Despite Clyde's not being too book smart, something he himself admitted, the guard was a master of unraveling complicated feelings to their simple core, and Craig looked away before Clyde could figure anything else out.

Every time he blinked, that morning was on the backs of his eyelids. Tweek so close that his exhale was Craig's inhale, Craig's exhale his inhale. So close Craig could count every freckle in the galaxy across the bridge of his nose. And his mouth forming words against Craig's that rattled his choice to stay with Kenny the way no words should, if he were a proper guard.

"Start sending our guests to the gallery," Kenny said, not unkindly, to Clyde. He did so with a questioning look, and Token and Stan followed. Though it took a moment for her to step away and their intertwined fingers to lose grasp, Kenny pulled away from Kyle and slipped her arm through Craig's leading him down behind the throne's platform. As close to privacy as the hall had to offer without going out on the balcony.

"I'm fine, Kenny, really," Craig said. His most convincing voice yet, still powerless against her.

"Craig, I've known you my whole life." Kenny took both his hands and shook them to punctuate her sentence. "You're my very best friend, and nobody loves you more than I do." Her eyes twinkled. "But I think, maybe, possibly, if I shared you a little more, Tweek might be a close second."

"Kenny, really, I'm—"

"Go." She had to push up onto her tip-toes to do it, but she kissed him on the nose. "I mean it, Feldspar." As she eased her feet back to the floor, Kenny smiled. " _Go_."

What happened between her releasing his hands and Tweek turning around to stare at him at the palace grounds gate was a lost memory, some vague notion of running through hallways, a blur of faces and voices falling away. When he reached Tweek, Craig realized too late he didn't know what to say.

"Craig?" Tweek's voice was guarded, and Craig didn't blame him. For more than a week, Tweek had asked and asked for Craig to come with him, always rebuffed. This must have looked like one last opportunity for Craig to turn him down.

"If you're leaving, I'm leaving with you," Craig blurted out. Tweek's eyebrows shot up practically to his hairline, those wild blond tufts jutting out in every direction. Embarrassed, Craig tried again. "I want to go with you," he said quietly.

"But Kenny..." Tweek started, his voice at war with itself.

"You said we'd visit, and I'm holding you to it. I want to be with you."

Finally thawing from his stunned silence, Tweek's warrior expression lifted into a smile that was almost shy. "You're sure?"

Before Craig had a chance to answer, someone's voice shouted to him from the palace.

"Craig! _Craig, wait!_ "

When he turned, Kenny was running across the courtyard in heels the way only she would, her enormous skirt hiked up inappropriately high in two fistfuls as she passed the shocked guards at the door. Behind her, Wendy, panting with the effort, and Clyde, his face streaked with tears, charged out, too.

Wendy hugged and kissed him goodbye with composure, until he asked about Sir Marshwalker's upset stomach, at which point he supposed he earned the slap on the shoulder. Clyde threw his arms around him and bawled that he was a jerk if he wasn't even going to say goodbye, and Craig hugged back, letting it go on a good, long time. At long last, Kenny stepped up to him again.

"When I said go, I didn't mean forever," she clarified. "You have to come back and visit, and you _have_ to be here for my wedding so you can give me away."

They hugged even longer than Craig and Clyde had.

"And Tweek," Kenny added when she pulled back. He turned his attention to her. "Craig is my best friend, and if you're not nice to him, I'll kill you."

The horror on Tweek's face made it impossible for Craig not to grin. Even after the queen and her attendants had returned to the palace, the Barbarian King seemed distraught. The man who, less than an hour earlier, had single-handedly taken out the Wizard while he was wielding a legendary weapon.

"She's kidding, right?" Tweek asked. Craig looked over his shoulder as the Barbarian group left the palace, the only home he'd ever known, the guards closing the doors behind them. Until the next time they returned.

"Nope," he said.

* * *

 

The rotation of guards changed, and the concept of time became nebulous. That self-righteous bastard Craig never showed his face. Probably too busy with morning sickness from his little Barbarian bastards. Eric ground his teeth. Clyde and Token never showed up either. He pointed out the hypocrisy of this to the guards who did watch him, and they never responded.

After some amount of time, Kenny came to see him.

"Well, well," he drawled. "If it isn't the little bitch."

"'Your majesty' will do," Kenny replied.

"Looking for advice, Princess?" he growled.

"Queen," Kenny corrected. "And, no, thank you. Butters is a superior Royal Vizier, and Kyle and I aren't so bad at making decisions ourselves."

Every part of that sentence made Eric want to vomit.

"I just came to bring you a present," the 'Queen' continued. "You remember those awful pictures you hung in my gallery?" He didn't dignify the question with a response. "That night, Kyle and I met to get rid of those pictures and replace them with proper art. I'll bet you didn't even notice." He hadn't, but he didn't dignify that comment either. "But since you love art so much, I thought I might have a piece hung here for your viewing pleasure while you awaited trial. We'll hang it up across from your cell so that there won't be any risk of it falling and breaking. I know you would hate that."

Behind Kenny, two guards were hanging up a portrait. When Eric looked up, he saw that it was a portrait of Kenny and Kyle. The filthy Elf wore his gaudiest robes yet. The traitor he raised wore white.

A wedding portrait.

Eric jumped to his feet, mouth open to protest, to unload every insult that wouldn't even be the tip of the iceberg of what he had to say to her. Kenny held up one finger.

"This is my kingdom," she said. "I am your Queen. And you have no power here."

He never saw her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I have reached the end!! I can't decide if I dragged this story out too long or didn't spend enough time with it, but it's been a wild and incredibly fun ride, and I am so grateful to all of you wonderful readers for sticking with me. See you in the next fic, I hope!! xo ikii


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